The Enemy of My Enemy is My Enemy
by dixiegurl13
Summary: G1-ish. A routine mission winds up being anything but for our favorite trine. Now grounded and with few options, Skywarp needs to find his wingmates before a more sinister force finds him. Fortunately for Skywarp, help is as close as your former enemy.
1. Who Shot John?

**A/N: This fanfic is brought to you by one rabid plot bunny and my recent addiction to AceCombat 6. I know I have another story in the works, but this one was screaming at me to let it loose. Don't judge too harshly; I write strictly for fun, not pinpoint to the mm accuracy. After all, this is fanfiction; I'm allowed some liberties, aren't I? Enjoy! ;)**

**Disclaimer: TFs isn't mine nor is the country that I mention later in this story—this goes for this chapter and all succeeding ones. I only claim the plot and Kesinger.**

**Chapter One: Who Shot John?**

"Son of a Glitch!" Skywarp cursed loudly as he drug himself out of the sizeable crater that resulted from the crash. Mumbling a few more curses under his breath, he turned and sat down on the lip of the crater and began to run his self-diagnostics.

_Weapons Systems: Off-line…Warp Field Generator: Off-line…Navigation Systems: Off-line…Communications Systems: Off-line…Transformation Sequence: Off-line…Flight System: Off-line… Energy Level: 50%…_and the list continued to scroll in the glass-is-half-empty sort of way.

"Slaggit. Can it get any worse?" the black and purple 'Con grumbled. No sooner had the words left his vocal processor than a thick blanket of snow began to fall from the heavens. "I had to open my big, fat vocalizer," he said flatly, smacking a palm to his black helm.

With a groan and a few more creaks and whines than he normally would have the battle-weary jet struggled to his feet. One dark wingtip was all but sheared off, hanging by a strip of metal and a few crucial wires. One engine thruster was completely offline, courtesy of SAM, SAM missile that is. Stupid SAM Missiles. Other than that, Skywarp had only suffered a few minor dents and pings from the actual air battle.

The real damage had been dealt at impact. Literally. The missile hit had caught the black Seeker completely off-guard, instigating the crash which in turn knocked out almost every critical system that he needed to survive in combat. Sure it was repairable, but his self-repair system could only fix so much in a set amount of time. Who knew when everything would be on-line and functional again? It could be one solar cycle, maybe two—slag, with the luck he was having today it would probably be one terrestrial week.

Slowly, he began to walk away from the crash site and into the thick coniferous forest. The branches hung thick with snow, and the deep drifts muffled the sounds of his footsteps. Skywarp wondered if his wingmates even realized he was missing—how could they not? On second thought, this could be payback. After all, two joors ago, he did switch the labels on Starscream's vials that were in his Air Commander's "secret" lab. Well…it was worth it! They'll be back, he kept telling himself.

Skywarp soon topped a ridge, but he almost wished he hadn't. As far as the optic could see, there was nothing but snow-covered forest—except…wait just a nanoclick…there…right there it was. Almost obscured by the coming snowstorm, he could just barely see a thin trail of smoke.

"Ha! So I did shoot the fragger down. Sweet!" With any luck he could use some of the parts from the crashed plane to repair himself and maybe even get a signal out. With new resolution he set out in the direction of the crash site.

Lieutenant Don "Stinger" Kesinger wearily pulled a part of his parachute tighter around his shoulders. Boy, had it been one hell of a crash. In all honesty, he was lucky to be alive. One minute he and his squadron were fighting those damn Decepticons, and the next minute his radio went ballistic with calls of hostile ground fire and orders to abort the mission. Shortly afterwards, his jet had taken a direct hit forcing him to eject. Now here he was stuck in the middle of nowhere in hostile territory with the choice of either freezing to death or being taken hostage—neither was very appealing. After untangling himself from his chute, he had packed it away knowing it would come in handy. Kesinger then began his long hike to the border armed only with his pistol, survival knife, survival kit and a fierce desire to get out alive. After several hours, he had stopped by a small stream and decided to make camp. The stream may have been frozen over, but it didn't stop him from trying to fish; at the very least he could fill his canteen. But fortune continued to smile on him and he caught one small fish for dinner.

Kesinger then proceeded to make a small windbreak from the pine branches and built a small fire to cook his dinner. Now, he sat huddled in his shelter, nursing the dying embers as they battled the bitter temperatures and freezing winds.

_Crack!_

The pilot was on full alert in an instant. He quickly doused the embers in snow and dove behind the thick windfall that made part of his shelter, pistol at the ready.

_Crack! _

It sounded as if a limb had broken off, but whether it was from the snow or an enemy he didn't know and he wasn't about to take any chances.

His peripheral vision caught a dark blur of movement to his right; Kesinger slowly turned and focused his sights in that direction. A small period of silence flooded the forest.

"I wouldn't if I were you, fleshy," a voice spoke from the gathering darkness.

"The only way you're taking me outta here is in a pine box!" Kesinger retorted.

"Huh! Just like a human—more guts, than brains!" taunted the voice.

That made Kesinger pause a moment. The voice had referred to him as "fleshy" and "human". That could mean only one thing—Decepticon. Slowly he lowered his weapon. "I won't shoot, if you won't," he spoke.

"Like your weapons could injure me," the Decepticon sneered, but he stepped out into the clearing even as he taunted the human.

Kesinger stared in awe at the figure before him. It was immediately obvious to him that the Decepticon before him was one of the ones he had fought with earlier in the day, despite it being in robot form. He instantly recognized the black paint job with the violet and white stripes on the wings (or what was left of them). He was an F-15 Eagle, if memory served correctly, one of three in the most deadly aerial trine to sear Earth's skies, but from the looks of things, someone had dealt the 'bot a heavy blow.

Now the jet Decepticon stood before him arms across the golden cockpit that comprised its chest, waiting. Kesinger decided to take the robot's actions as somewhat friendly and cautiously walked out to face the metal giant. Even if it decided to blast him, that death would at least be quick and painless versus slow and painful as a prisoner or slow, painful and cold as a snowman. He stepped out from behind the windfall and took several, measured strides into the clearing.

Kesinger smirked. The glowing red eyes of the robot dimmed to a deadly crimson. "What's so funny, earth germ?"

A loud snort escaped the pilot. "If _our_ weapons do so little to hurt you, then someone opened a can of whoop-ass on your tailfins. I only wish it had been me."

"Why you little…" Skywarp took two angry steps towards the human. In one quick motion he held the young lieutenant in a purple, iron grip. "I need to teach you some manners, fleshy!"

"By all means, do it metal head! Whatever you dish out will be better than being taken hostage in this God-forsaken ice box! They're probably on their way right now to finish the job!"

It took Skywarp a moment, but he finally wrapped his processor around what the human had just said. "Whoa, whoa—Wait just one nanosecond here. You said 'they' as in 'they' shot you down, not me or we shot you down, right?"

It was Kesinger's turn to be surprised. He had intended to try and scare the 'bot off by making him think more humans were on the way (there was a good chance anyway). After all, the guy was banged up pretty good and Kesinger would bet two cases of beer that the 'Con would prefer to avoid any major confrontations at this point. But his last statement caught the pilot flat-footed.

"Uh…yeah. I said 'they'. Took me out with a freakin' SAM. I never saw it coming…too tangled up trying to see what you and your buddies were doing."

Skywarp loosened his grip marginally. "So whoever shot me, shot you as well," he mused.

"Well, I have a pretty damn good idea who it was," Kesinger said, "and they're not friendly with _anyone_."

Skywarp cocked his head in puzzlement. He had never really paid attention to the human's political mumbo-jumbo. Sure he knew the countries(maps were his specialty), but by topographical boundary only. He only concerned himself with the mission at hand, how many Autobots he could take out, or how many energon cubes he could down before becoming over-energized. Politics was Screamer's thing.

"All right, fleshy, just who are we dealing with here?"

"The Latverians."

_**A/N: For those who don't know, the chapter title "Who shot John?" is a colloquial phrase meaning "who did what to whom". We use it a lot where I come from ;)**_


	2. Wheeling and Dealing

**A/N: Wow! Thanks everyone for the wonderful reviews! I really didn't expect to get as many as I did. Thank you very much. Also, thanks to all those who subscribed—I'll try my best not to disappoint! This chapter is a set-up for things to come, some **_**really good **_**things to come! So hang tight and enjoy the ride! XD**

**Update: I made a boo-boo in the last bit of dialogue of this chapter (thanks starfire201 :), so I went back and fixed it; sorry for any confusion!**

**Chapter Two: Wheeling and Dealing**

"Lat-veer-ians?" Skywarp stumbled over the word, "Who the slag are they?" the dark Seeker asked, one optic ridge cocked in genuine puzzlement.

Kesinger rolled his eyes at his opponent's obvious lack of political prowess. "They're a group of people meaner than a den full of rattlesnakes on the first day of spring," he sniped. "Just look what they did to you, hell, myself even."

With a small shrug Skywarp replied, "Point taken, squish." He slowly lowered his hand, dropping the pilot about five feet from the ground. The sudden action took the human by surprise and he landed heavily on his rear, the powdery snow surrounding him in a white, crystalline cloud. Annoyed beyond comprehension, Kesinger glared daggers at the 'Con, only to receive an arrogant smirk in return. He cursed under his breath, and floundered to his feet, dusting the snow from his flight suit.

"So, just why are you here, Decepticon? Surely I'm not so important as to grace your neighborhood call list." The lieutenant crossed his arms over his chest, mimicking the pose that Skywarp had held moments ago.

Skywarp ignored the barb and slowly lowered his frame into a squatting position resting his arms across his knees. At the moment a battle began to rage in his processor. On one hand, it was none of the human's slagging business as to why he was there. In fact just being there talking with it, irritated him to no end. He had thought the smoke trail was the result of the human's jet crashing. If he had known ahead of time it was only the squishy's campfire, he would have avoided this meeting altogether and continued his hunt to find a way out of this Pit. On the other hand, this human seemed to have pretty good knowledge of the country they were in; it might prove useful and keep him from getting into deeper slag, especially since all his major systems were offline. But deep within his processing core he knew which decision to make. He could have just kept on walking and ignored the human or he could have killed it and then have been on his way, but the fact remained he had done _neither._ The real question was would his Decepticon pride allow him to ask for help?

"Cat got your tongue?" Kesinger queried, breaking Skywarp's tenuous train of thought.

"What!? There aren't any felines within my mouth components! What kind of a fraggin' question was that?"

The pilot stifled his laughter behind his hand as he struggled to compose himself. "I didn't mean it literally!" he choked out between laughs. "It's an expression that we say to someone who is silent for a long period of time. It's a figure of speech."

The black and violet jet simmered angrily; it was all he could do to keep himself from swatting the human like the insect he was. Slowly Kesinger recovered from his laughing fit. He took several deep breaths of the ice cold air and glanced up into Skywarp's searing red optics. "I'm sorry man; didn't mean to insult you--that time. I forget you all haven't been here that long."

Skywarp harrumphed angrily, but seemed placated enough by the apology. "If you really must know, germ, I was hoping to use your jet for salvage parts and get the Pit out of here," he said crossly.

"Easier said than done, amigo. My bird was completely destroyed. Nothing left but a nice blackened hole in the ground." He paused briefly. "And I guess if you could have flown out of here, you'd have done it by now. Can't call your Decepticon buddies for help?" he added.

"Nope. All my major systems were knocked offline when I crashed. Unless they decide to come looking for me, I'm pretty much slagged."

"And the chances of that happening?"

"Slim."

Silence fell like a black, foreboding curtain between the two stranded figures. Skywarp stared glumly at the snow banks lining the small stream. His internal battle between pride and self-preservation raging hotter than ever. Kesinger merely stared up into the sky. The clouds had passed, leaving a velvety black canvas sprinkled with glistening diamonds. His thoughts drifted to home, to his squadmates, and friends and family. He wanted to see them again. He didn't want to die a frozen corpse in God's icebox, nor would his pride allow him to be taken alive as hostage. A flicker of bright light drew his eye and he watched as a shooting star darted across the night sky. A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips; there may be hope yet. It was a long shot, but if they could overlook each other's differences, at least for the time being, it might be the only chance they had.

"I've got an idea," he announced suddenly.

Two red optics turned in his direction eyeing him with both curiosity and skepticism. "Well, what is it, fleshy?"

"I propose a deal. I'll take you to where you can get parts and I'll even fix you up on the condition that if I do, and we don't get killed in the process, you take me with you out of here."

"And just where are we going to get these parts, human?" Skywarp countered, doubt lacing his voice; however, on the inside, just the mere thought of getting his wing fixed eased the pain a little and sparked a little flame of hope.

Kesinger smirked knowingly. "This is Latveria, my friend; one of the most heavily-militarized countries in the world, not to mention the smallest. Before our little dance in the sky earlier, my squadron was briefed on all the military outposts in Latveria, and believe me there's a bunch. As a matter of fact, there's a base not too far from here. I'd say it's a good several hours' hike north by northeast. If we head in that direction we'll come to it sooner or later, but definitely within a 24 period."

"And what are we going to do when we get there? My weapons systems are off-line and I'm pretty sure you can't stand off an entire base all by yourself."

"They don't know about your weapons, but you're right; it still presents a problem. We could at least head that way and do some reconnaissance, see how fortified they are. It's either that or make a break for the border, which is about three days away," the pilot stated.

All traces of his earlier hostility were gone. Sure this plan sounded like a suicide mission, but in three days time he knew the borders would be heavily guarded as other crews searched for him and the Decepticon. It was a nasty situation, but if the Decepticon decided to help him, if only for a little while, his chances for survival improved drastically.

Skywarp's optics dimmed as he mulled over the proposition. The thought of that grimy human just touching him made him almost purge his fuel tanks, but it would mean flight and more importantly freedom. Even he was beginning to realize that his best chance at getting out of this Primus-forsaken country was working with the human. Looks like self-preservation had finally won out.

"I would never make it in three solar cycles' time. I've only enough energy left for two more cycles. If what you say is true, and it better be for your sake," he threatened, "then I agree our best option is to head towards the base."

"Then we have a deal?" Kesinger pressed, offering his hand.

Skywarp paused for the briefest of seconds, before replying. "We have a deal," he agreed extending a purple index finger.

As they shook hands, Kesinger eyed the 'Con curiously. "Got a name, flyboy?"

Skywarp raised an optic ridge in mild surprise, a small smirk tugging at his lip components. "Call me Skywarp, fleshy. And you?"

The Lieutenant chuckled at the insult, his grey eyes twinkling with amusement. "My name is Lieutenant Don Kesinger, but you can call me Stinger."

"Odd name for a human," Skywarp commented, dropping his finger and settling back against a large pine tree. He instantly regretted his action as a large pile of snow from the upper branches came cascading down and landed heavily on his head. He growled loudly as he tried to brush the annoying stuff off.

"I could say the same about yours," Stinger countered. He walked over to his shelter and sat within its confines, pulling the parachute around his shoulders once again. The open end of the windbreak faced the tree that Skywarp chose as a backrest, making the continuation of their conversation possible under warmer and more comfortable conditions. "Does it mean anything?" he asked curiously.

"Yeah, in a way. I'm named after my teleportation ability."

"Teleportation, huh? No wonder I could never land a hit on you."

Skywarp allowed another small grin. "What can I say? I can't help it I'm that much better than you," he said conceitedly.

"That may be true, but everyone makes mistakes. I just hope I'm the one on your afterburners when you slip up," Stinger surreptitiously replied.

"Huh. That'll be the day, human," Skywarp jeered, but his voice lacked the venom that had been present earlier that evening.

"Let's say we get a couple hours of down time before heading for the base. By the way, do you know if you were being tracked by any patrols after you crashed?" Stinger asked, tactfully changing the subject.

The big jet pondered over the question. A few breems of recharge did sound pretty good and if they were to confront anyone anytime soon, Skywarp thought, he'd need to reserve every last joule of energy he had. "Not for sure, but I don't want to stick around any longer than necessary to find out. If my scanners were still functioning, I'd be able to determine their exact whereabouts."

"Not knowing where they're at or if we are being tailed puts us at a disadvantage. Hell, we might walk smack dab into them, if we're not careful," Stinger mused. He wrapped himself a little tighter in the chute. "I'm going to grab a few winks before we head out. Just promise me one thing."

"What's that?" Skywarp asked warily.

"Promise you won't kill me while I'm sleeping," the lieutenant said, half in jest and half in seriousness.

Skywarp feigned a wounded look and touched his fingertips to his cockpit mockingly. "Me? Kill an innocent life form? Perish the thought!"

"Yeah right, 'cause we both know your a pure-blooded Autobot at heart!" the pilot said sardonically.

Skywarp dropped his façade immediately, the false hurt instantly replaced with the real deal. "You wound me, Stinger. Just mentioning me and 'Autobot' in the same sentence causes my fuel pumps to shudder."

"It's payback for the jab you made earlier about my piloting skills."

Skywarp scoffed. "'Piloting skills'? When I get my wing and thrusters fixed, fleshy, I'll show you what real aerial skills are," he retorted.

A soft snort escaped the pilot. "I'll clear my calendar."

Skywarp raised a ridge, but didn't continue the Battle of the Barbs; there was always tomorrow. The two strange allies settled in for a brief respite, each poised on the edge of consciousness should the slightest out-of-place sound occur. One last thought drifted into Stinger's mind as he allowed his taxed body to relax. An old saying went: Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Twelve hours earlier, he never would have thought that saying would turn out to be this literal.


	3. It's Party Time!

**A/N: You guys are awesome! Thanks so much for the reviews; you've made my college finals a little more bearable! ;) Well, I had a blast writing this chapter—I have so much fun writing about chaos and destruction! It's great stress relief.**

**As a note to you, the readers, this story takes place in the present, but with G1 characters. Anyways, let's see what kind of trouble our duo can stir up.**

**Chapter Three: It's Party Time!**

_A couple hours later…_

Two figures of drastically varying height strode through the dark snow-covered pine forest. Every eye, optic, ear, and audio receptor was tuned for the slightest sound of pursuit, whether by land or air. Skywarp appeared nearly invisible in the dark covering of night. The snow muffled his steps to a soft _thump_; the only sign of his presence was the occasional glint of violet in the starlight or a brief flash of crimson from his optics. He eerily resembled a black, red-eyed phantom, ghosting through the trees with a grace that didn't seem possible for a being his size.

Stinger kept pace easily, staying slightly to the right of his temporary ally. His dark brown, crew cut hair shone wetly with melted snowflakes. His steel grey eyes ravaged the landscape, looking for any sign of danger. He wasn't a tall man by any means. But he didn't allow his muscular, 5'7 frame slow him down one bit. He jogged at an even pace next to Skywarp, bulldozing through drifts four and five feet deep, drifts that barely went half-way up the Seeker's calf armor.

They would pause every couple of miles, in part to listen for pursuit and recheck their heading and also to allow Stinger a quick respite (much to Skywarp's chagrin) before he became too hot and sweaty in the cold conditions. Hypothermia was a very real and ever present foe for the pilot.

By dawn, the duo had traversed almost 25 miles from their meeting point, crossing numerous ravines, hollows and endless forest; roads were not an option, even if they had been present. They crested a high mountain ridge just as the sun set the sky on fire in a dazzling array of red, orange, and violet color. There before the two soldiers, tucked neatly in a little mountain valley lay a small, Latverian military base. From this distance, Stinger estimated the base to be another five or six miles down the valley.

"Well, there it is," the pilot said softly, breaking the silence that had encompassed them for the past few hours. Skywarp knelt down and rested his elbows over his knees. He stared with keen interest at the base in the distance. At normal magnification and first glance it appeared like any other small installment—there were several large buildings, a barracks, motor depot, and a helicopter landing pad. He raised his magnification sensitivity a few degrees; something seemed off. Suddenly, after a minute of close observation, he jerked his head as if shocked and then gave himself a good shake.

"What? What'd you see?" Stinger asked sharply.

"My optics must be playin' tricks on me or something," Skywarp muttered, before resuming his watch.

Stinger strained his eyes, trying to see what had disturbed the dark jet. What he'd give for a good pair of field glasses right now!

"Oh slag."

"That doesn't sound like good news."

"It's not."

Skywarp lowered his ocular magnification then turned his optics on Stinger; they glowed with a deep, smoldering, burgundy light.

"There's more than just humans on that base."

Stinger furrowed his brow, trying to decipher just what the Decepticon was telling him. He cocked his head to the side and turned his gaze once more to the base.

"Something's tellin' me it's not heavy artillery you're referring to," he remarked, dread seeping into his voice like a winter chill.

Skywarp followed Stinger's gaze as he spoke. "There are other robots on that base; it's crawling with them. Near as I can tell, they ain't Decepticons or Autobots and they definitely don't look friendly."

Stinger raised his brows in surprise. It seemed as if the Latverians had upgraded their military, and in the non-sanctioned way; this could mean some serious trouble for both of them. He turned and took several strides back the way they had come. A small outcropping of rock provided measurable protection from the wind. He sat back against it and propped his knees up. He held his head in his hands, mind going 100 mph. He barely noticed when Skywarp came and sat against a tree across from him. A disconcerting silence fell; the only noise coming from one lone snowbird in a nearby tree.

Finally, Skywarp couldn't stand the silence any longer. "Watcha think, fleshy?"

Stinger raised his head, an amused look on his chiseled features. Skywarp noticed for the first time a narrow, white scar marring the pilot's left cheek. Offhandedly, he wondered what the human had tangled with to get it. Stinger's voice cut into his musings.

"I think we're about to walk straight into a hornet's nest; that's what I think. Could you see how big they are?" he queried.

Skywarp stroked his chin in thought before making a reply. "I'd say they'd probably come about chest high on me. Easy pickin's if my weapons were working." He glanced at the formidable arm-mounted laser canons on either side and then shrugged his shoulders. "They'd probably turn you into a nice, human-sized puddle of mush."

"Huh, no doubt about that," Stinger agreed. "Well we've got one thing going for us—the element of surprise. Thing of it is they probably have guards all around the perimeter, so how do we get close enough to attack without being seen, or killed for that matter?"

"We'll need a distraction of some kind," Skywarp mused. His optics dimmed as he concentrated on a good plan of attack. Once again, he found himself dallying in the realm of Screamer's expertise. Oh, what he'd give to hear his Air Commander's screechy voice barking orders now!

Several minutes passed in contemplative silence. Soon, the winter wind began to pick up pace, whipping the tree branches back and forth and causing the accumulated snow to cascade to the ground in a white waterfall.

At the same time, Stinger and Skywarp looked at each other—each sharing a malicious grin. "Are you thinkin' what I'm thinkin', squish?" Skywarp asked, that now familiar smirk gracing his features.

"I believe I am, Skywarp, I believe I am," his counterpart replied. "But just in case, why don't you enlighten me?"

*************************************************************************************

Nightfall had once again graced the tiny country of Latveria, but unlike the night before dark clouds obscured the moon's glow and smothered the stars--all in all, a perfect night for a raid.

At the guardhouse that sat beside the only travelable road going into the base, two guards were seated at a small, beat-up table drinking coffee. Theirs was a relaxed atmosphere as they traded stories of women they had loved, buddies they had pranked, and battles they had fought. To them, it was just another lonely night fulfilling guard duty.

_Ka-thump! _A snowball smacked the dead-center of the single, glass window. One guard nearly fell out of his chair, startled by the sudden noise. Quickly recovering, both men darted for the door, guns at the ready. A small figure stood 50 yards away, waving at them in a perfect imitation of the Ms. America wave.

"Howdy, boys! Come and get me!" With that, the figure darted into the woods before the guards could pop a shot off.

One guard turned abruptly and shouted at the other, pointing first down the road and then at the guard house. His partner nodded his head vigorously then took off after the interloper. As soon as he entered the treeline, he paused listening for the sounds of the fleeing man. His ears met nothing but silence. Then, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. The guard turned and stared dumbfounded at the very man he had been pursuing, shock clearly evident on the guard's features.

"Lookin' for me?" The lieutenant asked just before he cold-cocked the guard. The man collapsed immediately, rifle clattering to the forest floor. Stinger then proceeded to drag his prisoner deeper into woods and away from the roadbed. Next, he quickly ran back out into the road and raised both hands into the air as if in surrender.

The other guard had ducked back into the house, no doubt to alert the main base. It would prove to be a fatal mistake. As soon as the signal was given, Skywarp exploded from the cover of the forest behind the guardhouse, brandishing a large tree trunk like a club. With one powerful swipe he obliterated the tiny wood structure as if it were made of matchsticks. He glanced around and ensured its sole occupant was dead. He gave the body a disdainful glare before stepping over the wreckage.

Stinger emerged from the woods, fully dressed in the Latverian guard's uniform. Behind him the real guard stirred groggily dressed only in his long underwear, firmly bound and gagged with bits of parachute cord.

"Nice work, big guy," Stinger said, nodding his head in the direction of the ruined guardhouse.

"Causing destruction is what I do best," the black Seeker replied while idly tapping his free hand with the end of his club.

"I won't argue with that. Lord knows you gave me and the guys enough grief back in the States. Anyways, ready for Act II?"

Skywarp's optics lit up briefly, like a fire receiving a gust of fresh air. "Ready, willin' and waitin!"

Together mech and man reentered the forest behind the ruined guardhouse, skirting the perimeter of the base until they were on the east side.

"Well, this is where I leave you. Wish me luck," Stinger sighed, casting a glance up at Skywarp. "Take care of yourself."

"Hmmph. Don't waste your worry on me, squish. You're going to need all the luck Primus can give you."

Stinger merely snorted, then turned and trotted off for the north end of the compound. At approximately 2100 hours, the real party would begin. It was now 2050. He reached his designated spot with three minutes to go. Stinger then took several deep breaths and proceeded to do something he had found himself doing a lot lately—he prayed. When he was finished, he glanced at his watch.

2059.

The second his watch ticked over 2100 hours, a loud crash sounded at the eastern end of the compound. Immediately klaxons blared and alarm lights flashed throughout the base. Directly in front of Stinger's hiding spot, men rushed from the barracks to the source of the commotion. Shouts and gunfire began to fill the air. An explosion rocked the airwaves, quickly followed by several vehicles flying through space. It was a battle unlike anything the young lieutenant had seen before. What appeared to be green strips of light mingled with the orange-lighted rounds of tracer bullets, but try as the pilot might, he could not determine the source. Another loud crash split the night only this time, drawing his attention away from the firefight. A large grey robot hit the ground with a resounding thud and skidded across the parade grounds in front the barracks. Bright yellow and orange sparks flew from its chassis and one large dent had been knocked into its hideous head.

Stinger stared in awe at the monstrosity. Where Skywarp somewhat resembled a human, this thing ironically looked more alien than his Decepticon ally. One large, yellow optic dominated the head and there was no mouth piece. Its body was bulky and heavily armored with black plating; it was also bi-pedal. Weapons bristled from all points. Stinger then saw an embedded glow coming from the robot's hands, a green glow. If he was to change the color from green to purple, that glow eerily resembled the laser fire used by the Decepticons. This did not look good. Stinger silently hoped Skywarp had not bitten off more than he could chew. He knew that the robots would have been armed, but with _laser canons_? Where did that technology come from?

The bulky 'bot floundered to its feet then proceeded to rejoin the waging battle at the far end of base. When the robot had left, Stinger proceeded to execute his part of the plan. He quickly made his way down to the perimeter fence. Every available man was busy battling the giant, winged invader—no one saw the lone soldier scale the fence, snip the razor wire and land neatly inside the base. The first thing he needed to do was find the armory.

It didn't take the pilot long. He quickly entered the low-squat building and proceeded to pick and choose his weapons. He grabbed several frag grenades and what appeared to be a laser rifle—that would come in real handy. Next, he made his way to the explosives bunker. Inside he found exactly what he had hoped to find—blocks of C4. The bunker was a bomb maker's paradise! Finding a small satchel, Stinger proceeded to fill it with all the necessary ingredients to carry out the next installment of his and Skywarp's plan.

Not surprisingly, no one paid him any attention. The suddenness of the attack had launched the tiny base into utter chaos. The soldiers took one glance at his uniform and assumed he was gathering more weapons to fight the invader. Everything was going according to plan and now it was his turn to join the party.

At the first available opportunity, Stinger ran to the west end of the compound, which was relatively undamaged and deserted. He hung to the darker shadows; if anyone caught him doing what he was preparing to do now, he'd be toast.

Slowly and methodically, the pilot began to plant the C4 explosives next to the buildings. After each explosive was carefully laid, he added a small, electrical timing device that could be remotely activated. He planted a total of five bombs; time was growing short and Skywarp wouldn't be able to hold the robots or the soldiers off for long. His deed done, Stinger then proceeded to run back in the direction of Skywarp's diversion, yelling and shouting like everyone else around him.

He quickly ducked into the first open doorway he came to, sweeping the interior with the laser rifle just in case there were any uninvited guests. Fortunately, the building was empty. He pulled the detonation device from the satchel, double-checked his surroundings, and then pushed the button. A series of five separate explosions rocked the night air, intensifying the panic and confusion. The west end of the base glowed as bright as daylight as wood, mortar, and other bits of debris rained from the heavens. It wasn't long before Latverian soldiers began to rush to the area looking for the source of the attack. Stinger ducked back into the fray, imitating their actions and blending in with the enemy as if he had been fighting the entire time. Boy, how he loved playing dress-up!

*************************************************************************************

In the meantime, Skywarp was having the time of his life. He may not have had use of his arm canons or his teleportation ability, but he wasn't about to let those two setbacks ruin his fun. He had charged the base at full speed, shouting as if the Unmaker himself were on his thrusters.

To the Latverian soldiers, he appeared as a horrible, winged demon come to rain destruction and judgment on them all. His armor glinted with a bloody shine as the red alarm lights flashed their belated warning. His optics were a blazing inferno that sent even the most battle-hardened soldier fleeing for his life.

Babe Ruth would have beamed with pride at some of the swings the black and violet Seeker took at humans, buildings and robots alike. The snow soon turned into a burgundy slush as blood from the wounded and dying mixed with the diesel fuel, oil and other fluids from destroyed constructs. It wasn't long before the volatile mixture ignited and surrounded the black Seeker in a ring of fire. It only added to Skywarp's demonic appearance.

He really wasn't too concerned with their rifle fire at first; it pinged and ricocheted off his armor harmlessly. No, what quickly drew his attention was the laser fire from the robot drones. One of the drones appeared from behind a crumbling building and fired a green blast at the Seeker. He dove behind the mess hall just as the green laser beam seared the area where his left wingtip had been; the air crackled with residual energy from the shot. That was a little too close. A small reconnaissance truck sat abandoned not 20 feet where Skywarp lay. He wrapped a purple hand around the vehicle, stood and threw it directly at the robot. The drone fired at the incoming projectile, resulting in a large explosion and creating a cloud of thick, black smoke. It was the break Skywarp had hoped for. He lunged using the smoke as cover, tree trunk in hand, and struck the drone across its featureless face. Its glass optic shattered from the impact and the head dangled lifelessly at the end of a few wires. The body careened into another drone and together the two tangled robots collapsed into a small outbuilding.

_Where the slag was Stinger!?_

As if on cue, several large blasts erupted on the west end of the base. Confusion and chaos reigned supreme as some soldiers rushed off to determine what new threat was attacking their base, while others struggled to escape the Seeker's continued assault. "Finally, it's about time that fragger joins the party!" Skywarp griped as he made his way to the motor pool, taking full advantage of the lull in the battle. Petrified soldiers scattered in every direction as the black Decepticon ripped the roof clean off the garage building.

Two more robots appeared and began to open fire on him. He ducked their attacks with relative ease. Reaching down he scooped up a large, handful of snow, packed it together and threw it full force at the drone on the right. The white projectile hit the robot square in the optic, rendering it sightless. The drone stumbled around blindly, firing its laser beams in every direction. Skywarp knew Primus was favoring him tonight, as one of the stray beams struck the remaining drone and knocked it off-line.

Skywarp quickly resumed his raid, grabbing all types of human tools, equipment, and even several 55 gallon drums of oil. He quickly stored them in the bomb bay compartments that were present in his alt mode. The last thing he grabbed was a large strip of metal sheeting. Suddenly, a green laser blast struck him on the right side.

"Aaaaaack! You're gonna pay for that fragger!" He shouted furiously, while dodging more beams. "Slag! I wish my canons were on-line!" His right side was blackened and charred; the smell of molten alloy assaulting his olfactory sensors. Primus! How it hurt!

"Skywarp!" a voice cut through the painful haze. "Get the hell, outta here! Party time's over!"

The black Seeker glanced to his left just in time to see Stinger burning a track straight for him, two robot drones and a couple dozen soldiers hot on his heels. The brave pilot was taking pot shots with his pistol over his shoulder, but with little effect. Skywarp took several steps backward, prepping himself for the mad dash to safety. Suddenly, his HUD display beeped a warning. _Energy level: 25 Percent._

"Son of a Glitch!" he cursed loudly. "STINGER! GET YOUR AFT IN GEAR AND MOVE IT!"

"I AM YOU, BASTARD!"

Skywarp saw the pilot hold something to his mouth and then yank his hand away. He then turned and threw a small oblong, object over his shoulder. A flash of bright light as well as an accompanying explosion backlit the fleeing pilot as he continued his mad dash to the Decepticon. Through the smoke and flames, the two drones continued their pursuit, striding over the bodies of the fallen Latverian soldiers who had been caught in the grenade blast.

Skywarp's HUD beeped again. "Now what!?" _Warp Field Generator: On-line. Maximum energy output for successful jump: 20 percent. _"Finally! Some good news!" He turned his attention back to Stinger. Just needed one small distraction. He glanced at his club.

"STINGER! HIT THE DECK!"

The pilot kissed the ground not a second too soon as a large tree trunk sailed overhead. The log hit the ground and rolled right into the oncoming drones, effectively tripping them. Stinger immediately rolled to his left, leaped to his feet and plowed on towards Skywarp as the two drones crashed to the frozen earth.

By this time, Skywarp was almost completely surrounded by soldiers and artillery, cutting him off from his partner. With his last remaining energy, the dark Seeker took two massive steps towards Stinger and swept the pilot up in his violet hand.

"I've got one shot at this!" Skywarp ground out, as they were pelted with hostile fire. He shielded the lieutenant with his hands, bullets ricocheting off his wrist and forearm armor.

"What!?" Stinger shouted, but his words were lost as the air around him and the Decepticon began to shimmer and distort as if they were surrounded by heat waves. Violet light mixed with green laser fire as the two thieves disappeared into subspace, leaving behind chaos, destruction, and some very baffled Latverian soldiers.

**A/N: Military time conversions—2100 hours = 9:00 pm; C4—a type of explosive that is highly volatile. I also took the liberty of extending Skywarp's teleporting range just a smidge for the intents and purposes of this story. And finally, yes, the Latverians do have laser technology and no, it did not come from any of the Transformers, Decepticon or Autobot. In case you're wondering here's a hint: How familiar are you with Marvel Comics? Think you got an answer, drop me a PM!**


	4. Two Reasons to Mind Your Own Business

**Sorry for the long delay, been traveling for Christmas on a cross-country roadtrip! For your reading enjoyment here is Chapter 4. There is a lot of dialogue in this chapter, but I thought it necessary in order to develop Warp and Stinger's characters. I also introduce two other characters that no Seeker story should be without! Tell me what ya think!**

**Chapter Four: Two Reasons You Should Mind Your Own Business**

"Hey Starscream, I'm beginning to worry a little 'bout Warp," Thundercracker said as he approached his Air Commander. "It's been almost two cycles since that raid in Symkaria and we haven't heard one peep from him."

The tall, red, white and blue Seeker gave his wingmate a condescending look. "And you're complaining why?"

The big blue and red Con looked taken aback. "Well…uh…no, not really, I mean, it's just not like him to not report in."

The two Seekers strode down one of the many corridors of the _Nemesis, _the Decepticon's hidden underwater base of operations. Their broad wingspans forced any other unfortunate souls in the same hallway to flatten themselves like washers against the walls. Starscream and Thundercracker continued on, ignoring the scathing glares from their comrades. They soon came to the mess hall, grabbed their daily ration of energon and headed towards their favorite corner. As they sat down, Starscream could still see the worry in the blue Seeker's optics.

He released a longsuffering gust of air from his intakes. "Stop worrying, TC! Enjoy the solitude while it lasts! Things around here have actually begun going smoothly for a change."

Thundercracker raised his optics from staring at the pink swirling eddies in his energon. "Hmmph. Maybe. But what if he was shot down this time? Or taken hostage by the Autobots?"

"Then I don't pity them one bit, if that be the case," came the sarcastic reply.

Thundercracker glared at his Commander, "Good to know you care," he said with equal sarcasm.

Their mission had been simple enough. Cover the ground forces as they attacked the new solar energy plant in Symkaria. As expected, the Autobots and their human allies were soon on them like a plague of cosmic rust. The air battle was hard, and fast and with the Arialbots aiding the human jets, the scales had evened somewhat. A few breems before Megatron called a ground force retreat, most of the human fighters were severely damaged or destroyed. The Coneheads were occupying the Arialbrats and he, Starscream, and Skywarp were cleaning the skies of the remaining human filth. The sudden barrage of Surface-to-Air missiles had prompted Starscream to order a hasty retreat. In the ensuing confusion, the Seeker trine had split up with plans to meet at later coordinates; the only thing being, Skywarp never made it to the coordinates.

They then assumed that their less-than-brilliant wingmate had decided to beat them back to the _Nemesis; _it wasn't out the ordinary. It had now been almost two solar cycles since they last saw the black Seeker. Something wasn't right. Not that Thundercracker wasn't enjoying the relative peace and quiet; Starscream was right. Things had been quieter and smoother without their wingmate blowing something (or someone) up every few joors (as he was one of Skywarp's favorite prank targets).

"You're still sore that he snuck into your lab and switched all the vial labels on your little chemistry set," Thundercracker said, a hint of amusement in his ruby optics.

Starscream glared daggers at the blue Seeker; the statement had obviously hit the nail on the head. "So what if I am?" he challenged. "It'll serve the fragger right for toying with his superior; he should have known better than to pull that slag _with me._"

Thundercracker shook his head, a very small grin pulling at the corner of his lips. Skywarp had always loved irritating the slag out of Screamer. It had been an ongoing process since they were young bucks back in the Military Academy. The blue jet knew it would be only a matter of time before Skywarp reached the end of Starscream's minute supply of patience. It had just taken a little longer than he expected.

"Still Screamer, we should at least do something before Megatron notices and I've already been giving Soundwave excuses. You know _he _knows something's amiss; I think he's just savoring the quiet like everyone else and that's why nothing's been said," Thundercracker determined.

"Fine! Fine! We'll go and look for him! Just don't come whining to me when he gets back and starts his useless shenanigans again," Starscream conceded. He held his head in one hand, elbow propped on the table. "Primus, how did I come to command such useless, sentimental scrapheaps?"

Thundercracker merely grinned behind his energon cube.

* * *

The air shimmered with a violet haze as Skywarp reappeared on the ridge that overlooked the base. He fell to his knees with a pained groan, dropping Stinger in the process. The pilot landed hard between the Seeker's purple hands, and was about to give him one good cussing for it, when he looked up and saw just what kind of shape his partner was in.

A nasty gash razed Skywarp's right side, spewing sparks and a pinkish fluid that he could only surmise was the bot's life blood. It dribbled onto the snow, creating a loud hiss and vaporizing the white powder on contact. Stinger shuddered as a brief image of what that stuff could do to his skin flashed in his mind. The soft glow from the fluid provided enough feeble light for the pilot to see the various other scorch marks, old and new, that marred the black and purple paint; there were also several bullet holes in the jet's wings. The acrid smell of burnt metal filled his nostrils, nearly bringing tears to Stinger's eyes.

He stepped over to the side just as the mighty jet fell heavily into the snow. "Skywarp? Are you OK, man?"

For a long moment there was no response and Stinger feared that the Decepticon may have shut down for good.

"What the slag do _you_ think, squishy?" came a very soft and pained reply.

Stinger allowed himself a small grin. He slowly made his way to Skywarp's face and knelt down before the very dim and flickering red optics.

"What can I do to help your sorry ass?"

A gust of air escaped Skywarp's vents in his equivalent of a huff. He was in a sorry state and he knew it. His half-baked, suicidal plan had actually worked, but the victory had come at a cost. His energy stores were almost completely depleted; the warp jump out of the base had left him barely functional and within a hand's breadth of emergency stasis lock. Ironically, the raid that was supposed to help him recover from his injuries seemed to have only served to give him more. The only good thing: his warp field generator was still online and had been undamaged in that final volley. As much as it pained him to admit it, he needed that fragging human now more than before.

Skywarp lowered his head just a smidge. "On my left side there will be a bomb bay open. I need those drums of oil stored there. If you could get them and roll them to my hand, I might be able to avoid going into emergency stasis lock."

The lieutenant nodded his head once then proceeded to head to the designated spot. There was a large opening in the Seeker's body, revealing a somewhat spacious storage compartment. It was filled with stolen equipment from the base: wrenches, sockets, grease guns, metal sheeting and even a portable welder. It seemed as if Skywarp had literally cleaned the Latverians out. He entered the compartment and barely discerned the five 55-gallon drums piled in one corner. The pilot gave an involuntary shudder. This just didn't feel right, walking around inside an alien being, who was only your mortal enemy barely 24 hours ago.

He wrapped his arms around one of the hefty drums and muscled it to the opening. Once out into the snow he laid the barrel on its side and proceeded to roll it towards Skywarp's outstretched left hand.

"Here…you are," Stinger panted, as he rested the barrel against the Decepticon's fingers.

Skywarp made a feeble grab for the barrel and punctured a hole in its top with a fingertip. He then rolled as far to the left as his damaged wing would allow and downed the contents of the barrel in two large gulps.

The pilot watched in amazement as 55-gallons of refined oil disappeared within a matter of seconds. "Damn, son! I'd hate to get into a drinkin' contest with you anytime soon."

"Undefeated champion back on the Nemisis," Skywarp quipped raspily. "Fetch me another, will ya?"

A flash of annoyance crossed Stinger's features. He bowed mockingly and replied, "Yes, master."

"Well, at least now you're thinking in the right direction, squish," Skywarp said. Already his energon converters deep within his fuel tanks were beginning to break the oil down into useable energon. It wasn't the highest quality by any means, but at least it would keep him functioning, for a little while.

"Keep it up, tincan, and I just might be tempted to get this welder out and tack your trap shut," Stinger said irritably. He received a low chuckle for his gripe.

"Tell me something, Skywarp."

"Maybe."

"Just how in the hell did you get us out of there?" the pilot asked, as he began to unload more of the oil.

Skywarp drank another barrel before he answered. "Are you sure you little squishy brain could understand?" he said sarcastically.

"I graduated Texas A&M with a degree in Mechanical Engineering; try me, smart ass."

Skywarp gave a small shrug of his shoulders. "Well, I'm not sure exactly how the thing works myself, but Screamer says I have a special system called a 'warp field generator' that somehow rips holes in space and allows me to teleport from point to point within a given area."

Stinger listened with rapt fascination. "A warp field generator, huh? Sounds like you're delving into the realm of Stargate if you ask me. Awesome!" He paused for a moment in thought. "But I thought you said all your major systems were down; wouldn't _that _one be included?"

"Yeah, it would have been, but it looks like my self-repair system got it up and functional again," Skywarp responded, taking a third barrel.

"If you have a self-repair system then why in the hell do you need me to fix you up?" The lieutenant challenged, shooting a pointed stare at the jet.

Skywarp returned the glare with one of equal vehemence. "Because, _squishy_, my self-repair can only fix so much. Damage like this," he gestured forcefully at his right side and damaged wing, "is too much for my system to handle; it'll stabilize me, but not fix me completely. Believe me, I would much rather submit myself to Hook's 'kind and courteous' care than allow your grimy hands to even _touch_ my paintwork, let alone my wings." His tirade over, Skywarp flopped over on his back, the equipment in the bomb bay clattering loudly. He winced a little, but said nothing more.

Stinger realized he had touched a nerve; actually more like stomped on it would be more accurate. But he was beginning to tire of the Con's pompous attitude towards him. He walked over to the side of Skywarp's helm and squatted down into the snow. He didn't say anything for several minutes as he was trying to collect his thoughts and express them in the best way possible.

"Look," he began, "I know you hate me and my kind with a passion, and I have to say before all this went down, I hated your nuts too. But I've come to realize your race and mine ain't really all that different. You hate, we hate. You love to fly, I love to fly. And we're both too full of pride for our own good. We've got some common ground. And you know something? I could walk away from here right now, and stand a better chance at getting out alive than you would, especially with the shape you're in right now." Skywarp's features darkened ominously. Stinger continued, "But you know what else, I've chosen not to because after tonight, I've gained a lot of respect for you. You could have killed me the first night, but you didn't. Hell, you could have left my carcass back in that base, saved your own hide when things got hot. I expected you to, but you _didn't._ That wasn't a 'human-be-damned' sort of thing to do, but a soldier's thing to do. You ignored the fact we're enemies and decided to help me, damn it! You accepted me as a soldier, as an equal then, why can't you do it now?"

Skywarp's features were still hard-set, but his optics had lost their fiery fervor. The human was right. He was prideful, too prideful. He had started out with the intent to use the human for what he was worth and then dump him like a load of scrap, but fate had turned on him. When he had the chance to actually walk away, he didn't take it and now if he wanted to live to see the next vorn he had to rely on Stinger. Just the thought of being reliant on anyone, let alone a human, grated his circuits. But Stinger was right about another thing. He didn't know what had come over him during the heat of the battle at the Latverian base. He didn't know what had made him stop and rescue the pathetic pilot from certain capture, only he had. In that brief span of time, he had treated the human as he would have one of his wingmates. It had been automatic, instinctual. He off-lined his optics and released a great gust of air from his intakes.

Stinger slowly stood and made his way to the open bomb bay. With deep determination he began to extract the tools and equipment from the bay and laying them out in an orderly fashion. After assessing the equipment, he then walked over to the wounded side and began to assess the injury.

"What are you doing?"

There were two fairly large lines spewing the pink fluid as well as several frayed wire ends. Grabbing two large clamps the pilot proceeded to climb up Skywarp's chassis, being mindful of the spewing liquid.

"What the _slag _are you doing?"

"I'm trying to save your ungrateful, metal ass," Stinger bit out around the clamp in his mouth. He careful hooked his legs into an opening of Skywarp's chassis and lowered himself over the injury. Being extra cautious to avoid the deadly fluid, Stinger grabbed one of the lines and began to slip the clamp over the broken hose. He then began to tighten it down until the flow of energon ebbed and then eventually stopped. Lifting himself back up he then moved on to the next line and did the same procedure.

During the entire process, Skywarp remained stock still; he didn't so much as flex a finger joint. With the threat of energon poisoning contained, Stinger quickly and methodically began soldering and splicing the frayed wires back together. It wasn't a neat job by any means, but if he could patch the worst of the damage, then Skywarp's so-called self-repair system could take care of the rest.

Several minutes later Skywarp's voice cut into his concentration. "Why?" A pause. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because…it's the right thing to do."

Nothing more was said between the mech and the man for almost an hour. Stinger continued to solder and splice the wiring, the little clicks and zaps of his work the only sound in the dark hours just prior to dawn.

Skywarp was puzzled over this human's commitment to him. If he were in the same position, he probably would have left his own aft. But even after all the derogatory comments, the name-calling and the put-downs the pilot remained; not only that, he was willingly fixing him. It was something that didn't occur often in the Decepticon ranks, therefore, this type of perseverance was new to the Seeker. Was this what it was like to be an Autobot? Knowing someone would be there even after all the slag you put them through? Was it really weakness? Thoughts like these continued to plague the black Seeker until the first tiny hints of dawn began to crest the snowy mountains. So consumed was he in thought that he never noticed that Stinger had finished the necessary repairs to his side.

"Are you gonna let me fix those wings?"

Skywarp turned and cast a wary glance at the pilot. His optics dimmed to a muted crimson as he made his reply. "Yeah, go ahead."

Stinger motioned for him to roll over onto his cockpit, allowing the pilot full access to the Seeker's back. It was a slow, tedious, and in Skywarp's case, painful process. With the right wingtip almost fully detached, Stinger had needed to go back and smooth out the rough edges with a grinder before beginning the actual welding process. Each buff from the grinder (in a human comparative) felt as if someone were using an air sander on your bare back—in short, excruciating pain. When Stinger began the welding process it was all Skywarp could do to not leap out from under the pilot. He dug his fingers into the icy ground leaving deep, dark brown furrows in the permafrost. He also silenced his vocalizer so as not to cry out in pain and give away their position (as well as to not look weak in front of the human). Four pain-filled hours later, Stinger rose from his crouched position and cut the torch off. He stiffly climbed down from the Seeker's back, settling into a sitting position against a nearby tree.

"Well big guy, that's the best I can do for now. Let's hope it's enough for your self-repair system to integrate 'em."

"It should be," Skywarp replied, sitting up and running a hand over the weld line in the right wing. It felt as smooth as glass, not a bump was to be found. He reached over with his opposite hand and gingerly touched the metal sheeting that Stinger used to patch the holes in his left wing. Hook himself could not have done a better job. Satisfied, the black Seeker turned back towards the pilot. "I'm…impressed, human. Where did you learn to weld like that? I'm sure they didn't teach you that in flight school."

"Yeah, you're right there," Stinger drawled, "My daddy taught me. Used to run a machine shop in Virginia after he retired from the Services. That's where I learned a lot of my mechanical know-how."

"Hmm." Skywarp narrowed his optics and cocked his head to one-side, his optic ridges were creased together and his mouth turned down in a slight frown. "What made you want to fly?"

Stinger shifted restlessly against the tree and then cast his glance skyward. "Well, daddy always told me that as long as I applied myself, the sky was the limit." A light laugh escaped his lips, "I guess I took him a little too literal." He grew serious once again. "My granddaddy flew in WWII. He used to tell me stories of fighting the Japanese or the Germans. He told me that each battle he flew away from he thanked God for his mercy and being able to fly another day. He would also tell me what it was like to fly, to feel that sense of freedom that only comes when you're touching the clouds or in his words 'touching the face of the Almighty Himself'; I wanted to feel that for myself."

Skywarp accepted the pilot's answer. For once, he could agree whole-heartedly with what the human was saying. He loved the feeling of flight as well, feeling the wind brushing your fuselage, skimming the cloud banks at altitude, or just enjoying the serenity that only the skies could offer, whether in times of peace or times of war.

They sat in peaceful silence, taking in the last few moments of rest before moving onward. The Latverians would be out in full force after their sneak attack; staying in one position for too long could be hazardous to both of their healths.

"I guess we should get moving," Skywarp suggested after a few moments. He stood to his feet and rustled his newly welded wings. He ran a quick diagnostic. "I should be flight worthy in another 36 earth hours, so long as I don't get shot up all over again."

"You mean, as long as _I _don't get you all shot up again," Stinger quipped, also rising to his feet. His comment earned him a sly smile.

"So what's the plan?"

The pilot began to pick up the equipment and setting it in pile, in which Skywarp would store the tools in their compartment. "Honestly," Stinger began, "I want to know what in the hell is happening. Latveria isn't supposed to have robots. Hell, you guys and the Autobots are the only robots we know about and if ya'll don't claim 'em, then where'd they come from? Something doesn't smell right."

"I don't smell anything," Skywarp said, reaching for the portable welder.

"No, no. What I meant was this whole robot thing doesn't add up. Where did this little bitty country come up with the technology to create those things, let alone lasers that can put _you _in a world of hurt."

"Ahh, OK I get ya, squishy," replied Skywarp, finally catching onto to the subject. "So let me guess. You wanna stick around and figure out what's going on." Skywarp put the last piece of stolen equipment in the bay, the door slowly closing with a hiss. He then gave Stinger a dubious look.

"Well, yeah. First they shoot at us without any warning whatsoever, then we find they've been building giant robot drones armed with laser cannons that seemed to have come straight from Star Wars. I don't think my government knows what's happening here and we already know you guys are in the dark, so why not?" The pilot questioned.

"So saving our own afts have no appeal to you whatsoever?" Skywarp challenged, purple hands on his hips. "Need I remind you I'm _grounded_, squishy? Not to mention my weapons are still off-line?"

"And I'm any better off? At least you have size on your side as well as that teleportation thing. Look, by the time we make it out of here and back to our allies this place could be ready to start World War III. And with as big as a wallop as those drones are packing, they could make short work of Decepticons and Autobots alike, especially with the element of surprise. And frankly, I'm a little pissed these guys stuck their noses in a fight that didn't belong to them. So why not make things a little rough for them?"

Skywarp pondered over the pilot's words. He didn't like being at a disadvantage with anyone. And having the element of surprise would certainly put the Latverians one up. And honestly…he too was a little rankled that he had more or less been sucker-punched. Maybe it would be good to stick around a little longer…

How long until you're flightworthy again?"

"Maybe 36 earth hours. My right engine was hit pretty badly so it'll take a while." The black jet seemed to hesitate for a brief moment and then knelt down on one knee, extending a purple hand palm-up.

Stinger glanced up, surprise written across his face. He seemed hesitant with good reason, after all, not too many hours ago he had given the jet one good butt-chewing. Not many humans (none as far as he knew) had done that to a Decepticon and lived to tell the tale.

"Well, come on squish! We don't have all day!"

Stinger cautiously stepped onto the hand. He held his breath involuntarily as Skywarp wrapped his hand around him in a firm grip and then deposited him on his shoulder. "Which way?" the Con asked, turning his head to look at the pilot.

Skywarp's voice brought the pilot back to reality and he slowly exhaled. "Well, are you up for a little game of 'I Spy' or are those big, bad robot drones too much for a Decepticon like you to handle?" Stinger goaded. If there was one button he knew how to push in their short time together, it was Skywarp's pride. He had seen the slight hesitation in the Con's optics earlier and decided to use that opening to his advantage. It seemed to be just the right amount of nudging needed.

The purple and black jet's optics blazed like fire. His wings tensed up and he opened and closed his fists in agitation. "There ain't no ground-pounders too much for _me _to handle!"

"Well then, let's do this. Let's find a place to hole-up and give them wings of yours time to finish healing as well as me time to take a look at that engine—maybe I can speed the process up or even try and get your other systems to come back on-line, then we can sniff around—see if we can find any clues as to what's goin' on here."

Skywarp furrowed his brow plate in thought. He still didn't like the idea of sticking around in this icebox any longer than necessary, but Stinger's offer to look at his systems was mighty tempting. The pilot had proven he was a competent welder as well as a mechanic. And the pilot's little speech earlier had certainly opened his optics to harsh reality. If they could find a place to lay low for a while and get his major systems back online (namely his weapons), he would like nothing better than to dish up a little revenge on the tiny country who had dared to shoot him out of the sky. One Decepticon against a whole country—now those were the odds he liked! He could make things "uncomfortable" to say the least, before he left.

"All right squish, if you can get my major systems back online I'll show _you _and this puny country just why they call me one of Cybertron's Elite."

A malicious glint appeared in Stinger's eye. "That's what I thought!" He glanced up at the sky, which had turned a dark, sullen grey over the course of their conversation. "Looks like another snow storm. Perfect, it'll cover our tracks as well as your form and slow down their little search parties. We crossed a river not two miles back; let's head in that direction. Maybe we can find a cave or something."

"All right. Let's do it."

Skywarp slowly began to make his way southward, Stinger sitting comfortably on his shoulder just inside the intake. Both were a more than a little nervous about capture, but were willing to throw caution to the wind if it meant a good fight in the future. Stinger had been right—they were more alike than he ever thought possible.


	5. Bachelors

**A/N: Sorry for the delay—just got back from Kansas. Kind of a long drive when you live on the East Coast! ;) Anyhoo, please enjoy this chapter. I'm tryin' really hard to keep Warp in character, but you know how ornery he can be sometimes! Let me know watcha think! Oh, and as a note for later in the story:**

**UPT: Undergraduate Pilot Training**

**Chapter 5: Bachelors**

"Ow, ow, OW! Easy pipsqueak!" Skywarp complained loudly.

"Hey! You wanna do this yourself can-opener, you're welcome to it! I don't _have _to help you, you know," Stinger shot back. He poked his head up from the open canopy of Skywarp's cockpit. His face was smeared with grease and oil in such a way that it looked as if he had been intoxicated while dabbling in war paint. He clunked a large wrench against the black Seeker's armor before disappearing once again.

Skywarp _harumphed_ loudly and slumped against the wall of the abandoned silver mine. It had been a hard trek but they had finally found temporary refuge. Upon reaching the river, Skywarp and Stinger had turned and followed it upstream. They traveled the better part of the day until Stinger, with the aid of his exceptional perch on Skywarp's shoulder, spotted a dark opening nestled into the cliff face. The old abandoned silver mine was nearly invisible in the long evening shadows; its opening yawned invitingly to the two weary travelers. It was a tight fit for the large, broad-winged Decepticon, but as long as Skywarp did not suddenly stand up straight he would avoid any unnecessary processor aches.

Stinger had quickly set about fishing the river in the last throws of light as it had been well over a day since he had had a meal of any substance. The young lieutenant had caught two small trout and enjoyed a fine feast before undertaking the task at hand. Now the two sat within the dank mine, the only light provided by the flickering cookfire, Skywarp's ruddy optics and Stinger's stolen flashlight.

"Well, I've got some good news and I've got some bad news, pard," the pilot said as he climbed out of the cockpit and rested his back against Skywarp's lower hip plating. He laid his head against the warm metal and wearily took a sip from a battered canteen. He felt the large Con shift a little, probably to get into a more comfortable position.

Skywarp fidgeted uncomfortably, more from having a human practically sitting on his lap than from any physical discomfort. He looked down at the human and cocked an optic ridge quizzically. "I'm afraid to ask, but," he hesitated, "what's the bad news?"

"Well I can't fix your transformation sequence or your damaged engine or your communications…"

"I thought you said you had some good news, squishy!" Skywarp interrupted, exasperated.

"If you'd can it for one minute, I'll get to that! Sheesh, you're as bad as my sister! You wanted bad news first so I'm giving it you! Anyways, those systems are beyond my capabilities with the tools that I have; however, I can fix your weapons systems as well as your long and short range motion detectors. Near as I can tell, it was just a few wires, sensors and such that got bounced really good when you augered into the ground. Easy fix," the pilot finished, casually tossing the wrench into the air and catching it again.

Skywarp snatched the wrench out of the air on the next toss, earning him an angry glare from his counterpart. "How long will it take?" he asked, giving Stinger his best what-are-you-looking-at-me-for look.

"Aaww, no longer than hour at least," the pilot replied. "That is barring any _interruptions," _he finished ruefully, glancing at Skywarp out of the corner of his eye.

"Who me?" Skywarp said, feigning innocence. "Now since when have I caused you any trouble, Stinger?"

"Please, spare me your innocence; it's almost as nauseating as your usual, demeaning self," the pilot quipped.

Skywarp gave the human a hurtful glare, but it lacked any true vehemence. Slowly, Stinger rose to his feet and crawled back into the cockpit. With a weary hand, he began to resume the slow and complicated process that was restoring Skywarp's weapons systems. After several minutes of quiet, Skywarp broke the silence.

"I'm curious, Stinger," he said, cocking his head to one side in that manner Stinger had come to recognize that something was puzzling the Seeker.

"Yeah? What is it?" came the reply from deep within Skywarp's cockpit circuitry.

"Just how did you get the name 'Stinger'?"

_Clank!_

There was a long period of time that was filled with the pilot's mumbled curses as he fumbled to find the dropped screwdriver. Skywarp merely smirked; his curiosity fueled by the pilot's uncharacteristic response.

The young pilot finally poked his head up from the nest of wires he had been buried within. Carefully he extracted himself from the cockpit and rested his arms on the lip of the opening. He gave the Con a wary look before he made his reply. "It's kind of a long story; sure you want to listen to it?"

"If I didn't I wouldn't have asked, now would I?"

Stinger gave a little half-laugh, half-sigh before starting his tale. "Well, it all started about four years ago when I was first entering UPT. There's a tradition in the US pilot ranks to give all new pilots a call sign, a nickname if you will. Now whether it's a good name or a bad one depends on just who's watching whenever you goof up, or do something respectable." Stinger's eyes took on a faraway look as he began to remember better times.

"Anyways, I had just completed my first solo flight and the guys and I wanted to celebrate it proper. At the first opportunity, we took off for town…there were four of us if I recall, includin' me. We started bar-hopping and by the fifth bar I was wasted…we all were. Well, I was downing my umpteenth drink of the night, when this real pretty girl walked up to the bar…red hair, green eyes…she was a real knock-out. One of my buddies, Preston McKinney if I remember correctly, began to egg me on. 'Go ask her out, Kesinger,' he said, 'I'll bet ya 50 bucks that you won't get laid.'

'Alright,' I says, 'you're on.' So I make way over to this dame and being the lame dumbass I am, I tried some pickup lines on her. Hell, I was drunk! I didn't know what I was doing!

She looked at me, gave me the bird and then turned back to her conversion with one of her girlfriends. Well, I grew pissed. I tapped her on the shoulder and say, 'Hey baby? Don't you wanna get laid by a pilot?'

She turned back around and said, 'Touch me again asshole, and we'll have some serious problems. Now back off!'

Well, I never claimed to be the sharpest tool in the shed so I pressed on further. I laid my hand on her shoulder and began to ask again, when that pretty little redhead turned into a real she-devil. Next thing I know, my face is tingling something awful then it felt as if I had walked dang straight into live wire fence.

My buddies are hootin' and laughin' like hyenas as they pick me up off the floor. 'What happened?' I asked. McKinney grabs my elbow and takes me to one side, 'I believe you just got rejected, bud. Where's my 50?' My mind just couldn't comprehend what had happened. 'What happened?' I asked again.

Then McKinney started to bust up again. 'Dude,' he said, 'You just tried to hit on a lesbian. That was Shela Darrows, an old college friend of mine. Smart as a tack and meaner than a rabid opossum if you rile her up. She comes here every weekend with her girlfriend to have a few drinks and wind down the workweek.' I just stared at him like he had grown two heads. Then I realized it had all been a set up, unbeknownst to me, or her for that matter. Turns out that little she-wolf left a nice little hand print on my face as a momento then she tased me. To add insult to injury, it was then one of the other guys yelled over at us and said, 'That was quite a stinger, eh Kesinger!?' Ever since the name's stuck."

When Stinger had finished his tale, he glanced up at Skywarp, a slight tint on his cheeks. He had never liked telling others how he had earned his call sign and very, very few knew. However, Skywarp still had a curious look in his optic.

"Interesting story Stinger, but I don't get one thing," Skywarp said as he scratched his helm in puzzlement.

"What's that, Warp?"

"What's a lesbian?"

Stinger nearly fell from the cockpit, he was laughing so hard. He spent the next half-hour explaining the ins and outs of various human relationships to the dumbfounded Con. When he had finished, both the Decepticon's and human's mirth rang deep within the mine. The rest of the night was spent swapping stories of old that only two bachelors could share.

* * *

"Slag. Warp would have had to crash in the densest, coldest climate on this planet," Thundercracker grumbled as he and Starscream sailed through the immense stratocumulus clouds that covered the airspace above Latveria.

"Leave it to Skywarp, that's for sure," Starscream concurred, "He's never been known to do things the easy way."

"Should we circle back around for another look?"

"Yes. We'll drop another thousand meters just to ensure we haven't missed anything in this sector."

Slowly, the two F-15 Eagles descended from the cloud layer and began to perform closer scans of the surface area. They had been searching for several cycles without so much as seeing a piece of scrap metal of their wingmate. The two jets had almost finished their circuit and were about to move to the next sector, when suddenly Thundercracker saw an unusual formation.

"Starscream, I think I've found something," he said, descending from the air and transforming to land neatly in a small unnatural clearing.

The large red and white Seeker landed shortly behind his wingmate, his optics taking in the slight dip in the earth and the scarred trees surrounding the clearing. They finally stopped on a large pile of trunks cluttered on one side of the clearing—this was definitely a crash site of some kind.

"Hmmm. Something definitely crashed here, but it has been several solar cycles if I'm judging the snowfall correctly," the Air Commander mused. His thrusters made a soft _whuff _as he strode through the powdery snow. He knelt down beside one of the scarred trees and began to give it a good once-over. There, buried deep into the bark, was a small piece of black-enameled metal. Gingerly, Starscream plucked the tiny sliver from the wood fibers. He then stood holding the tiny piece of metal up to the moonlight; it glittered under the winter light.

"By the looks of it, it seems that this is the place where Skywarp crash-landed," Starscream said, his optics focused on Thundercracker.

The blue Seeker studied the surrounding forest intently. His ruby-colored optics brightened momentarily as he spied another clue. "Well, if this is where he landed, then this is the direction he set out in," Thundercracker replied, pointing at a small grouping of trees. "Look. All of the other surrounding trees have accumulated snowfall, except these. There is less snow on these trees than any of the others."

Starscream's gaze followed the pointing digit of his wingmate. He nodded his head in agreement. "As much as I hate to admit it, looks like we're going to have to ground-pound for a while." He gave Thundercracker a knowing smirk.

Thundercracker grinned back, "Like you said, Screamer. Warp's never been known to do things the easy way."

* * *

"So what's the game plan?"

Stinger let the question hang in the air as he carefully weighed their options. "Give me a prognosis," he said looking into Skywarp's optics.

"Huh?"

The lieutenant held the bridge of his nose with one grease-covered hand. "Uuuuhhgg. Tell me what works and what doesn't and I'll tell you what we can and can't do."

"Fine. Now that you put it that way…" Skywarp trailed off, his optics dimming as he ran diagnostics. After a few seconds they brightened to their normal crimson glow. "Looks like my weapons systems are good to go as well as my warp field generator and short and long range motion detectors." Skywarp nudged the pilot's shoulder with a purple fingertip. "You didn't do half bad," he added.

"Hey, whatever it takes, huh big guy?" Stinger said, tossing his wrench to Skywarp.

The purple and black Seeker caught it easily in his massive hand. "Whatever it takes, squish."

"I think we should either head back to the base we just came from or scope out another one and see if we can discover who's behind all this--maybe even try and get to a radio and get the word out as to what's going on here."

"Yeah, I see where you're going with this. I might even be able to hail one of my wingmates if that be the case."

Stinger didn't quite know how to take that last comment; after all, the last time he had had a meeting with Skywarp's wingmates it was on less than friendly terms. He scratched the back of his head nervously. "Uh, yeah sure," he agreed somewhat awkwardly. He slowly made his way to the mine's opening. He stared out into the darkness lost in thought. A small flash drew his attention but by the time he focused on the area from whence he saw it, it was gone. Wearily he shook his head—it had been a long night, no wonder his mind was playing tricks on him.

Skywarp knew he had made his counterpart nervous by mentioning his wingmates. Never in his wildest musings had Skywarp dreamed of working with a human, let alone becoming friends with one. Ever since their argument after the base attack, Skywarp had realized that he and Stinger really weren't that much different. Slag, just a few breems ago they were trading each other's most closely guarded secrets—how to successfully hit on a femme. He grinned to himself. Those were the good ole' days. Pranking Screamer at every turn of the wing, bumming credits from TC, drinking it up at the local energon bars, getting laid by one hot femme after another…the list went on and on. Much to his amusement, Stinger's list had very little variance—just give everything the human equivalent. He gave a sigh through his intakes.

"Don't worry, Stinger. I'll vouch for your scrawny, mushy hide when we meet up with Screamer and TC."

The brown-haired pilot turned his head and gave Skywarp a lopsided grin. "That would be appreciated seeing as how they would like to turn me into nothing but mush. A few days ago, you weren't even sure anyone was looking for ya; what makes you so sure now?"

The black Seeker gave a small chuckle. "Well, any of the other Decepticons might be glad to finally be rid of me, but I know Starscream and Thundercracker will come searchin' eventually. We've been through too much slag together over the past several millennia. Besides, as Megatron's 'most loyal soldier' someone has to stay on the ol' Buckethead's good side and Screamer knows it."

Stinger laughed outright at that. "Sounds like you three've got quite the group dynamic going." He wiped an eyelash from his icy grey eyes. One thing about it, since being with Skywarp, he had discovered things were not quite as "stagnant" within the Decepticon ranks as he had first believed. He turned his gaze back out onto the frigid landscape.

_Pow! Pow! Pow!_

Three shots sounded from the river below, the bullets peppering the rockface around Stinger's body. He dove back into the mine's safety, landing hard on his right shoulder. He rolled over to the wall, cursing profusely. Behind him he heard Skywarp curse in his own language before reverting back to English.

"What the slag!?"

Stinger pulled his pistol and cocked the hammer, the metallic click ominously loud in the cave's confines. He turned his head in Skywarp's direction.

"Time to see just how good of a job I did on those weapon systems of yours."


	6. On a Wing and a Prayer

**A/N: I really didn't expect this chapter to turn into what it did, but I'm glad it happened nonetheless. It is a little shorter than those previous, but I hope it makes up for it in content what it lacks in longevity. Hope everyone enjoys!**

**Chapter Six: On a Wing and a Prayer**

"Son of a glitch!" Skywarp cursed loudly as a bullet ricocheted into the cave and zipped within inches of his right optic. On the opposite side of the cave, Stinger was releasing his own string of curses as a mixture of bullets and laser fire peppered the mine's opening.

"What's the plan now genius?" the teleport ground out between gritted teeth. The hail of hostile fire at the mine's opening was nothing short of a solid curtain of ammunition preventing either mech or pilot from moving to the entrance and popping off a few shots of their own.

"Hey! Don't start with me! You're the one with the super-advanced motion detectors; why couldn't you detect them on radar!?" A shadowy figure appeared at the mine's entrance and Stinger fired a shot. A man's screams mingled with the gunfire as he fell from the entrance.

"Don't try and pin this on me bonebag! For your information they _didn't _show up on my detectors and aren't showing up even now!"

"Damn it!" Stinger cursed loudly, "They must have some sort of signal dampener or something." Reaching into his pocket the pilot pulled out another clip and jammed it into his pistol. "Can you detect these snow monkeys at all?" Stinger shot Skywarp a quick glance as he posed his question.

"I might could try my infrared but no promises," the teleport replied, firing one of his laser cannons at another enemy trying to enter the mine. The enemy soldier's uniform burst into flames as the purple beam passed right through his midsection, leaving a charred and gaping hole. His gurgling screams echoed within the mine as he fell face first into the entrance dead and burning.

Stinger closed his eyes to the grisly sight, silently thanking God that for now Skywarp was on his side while simultaneously asking Him for the strength of heart (and stomach) to make it through this battle.

"Bingo!" Skywarp shouted above the din, "got a lock; there's about twenty-five humans and five drones. Looks like they've got the entrance completely blocked off." The black and purple Seeker glanced over at his partner. "Any ideas?"

"Yeah! As a matter fact I do. Toss me one of those plasma grenades we swiped from the base," Stinger replied. The intensity of the attack was dying somewhat. To Stinger that could mean only one thing—they were planning to rush the entrance.

Skywarp reached into his storage compartment and began to feel around for the grenades. His fingers brushed one of the small, orange-sized grenades and he quickly grabbed it up. Without a second thought he tossed the round explosive in Stinger's direction.

"Hey! Watch it tincan! You nearly brained me with that thing!"

"Yeah, yeah whatever, squish. What do you need me to do?" Skywarp said, barely blinking an optic in the pilot's direction.

"Try and cover me so I can get close to the entrance, then I want you to tell me approximately where those damn drones are; I'll pitch the grenade and with any amount of luck I'll take some of 'em out."

Why don't I just warp down there and take 'em out myself?" the Seeker countered.

"Well, if you want to take on five drones and twenty-five humans all by your lonesome while they're concentrating on this mine, be my guest. I was just trying' to even the odds while we still had the higher ground," he paused seeing the determination in the jet's optics, "At least this way it'll be a distraction, if you still want to sign your own death warrant," Stinger finished with an innocent tone. He eyed the jet out of the corner of his eye.

Skywarp pondered that answer over in his processor. Last time he had a fight with those drones they nearly off-lined him permanently. Then again, this time around he had his cannons. But they didn't know that! There was nothing quite like the element of surprise. He'd show those pathetic meatsacks just who they were dealing with now that his cannons were functional!

"All right squish; you provide the distraction and I'll take care of clean up." There was a mischievous glint in the Decepticon's optics that immediately told Stinger he indeed wanted to sign that warrant and there really wasn't anything he could do about it. Well, some plans were best done on a wing and a prayer, in this case Skywarp's wings and his prayers. Skywarp's next words broke into his thoughts.

"On my count—One—Two," Skywarp paused pulling a deep draught of cold, dank air through his intakes, "THREE!" With a mighty war cry, the black jet lunged for the opening, head low and arms forward. The tips of his arm cannons glowed with an ominous, purple light; there was even a light, pinkish mist emanating from the openings.

At the same instant Stinger followed on the jet's thrustered heels, being mindful to stay close to the rock walls. Several bullets ricocheted off the Seeker's armor as he appeared at the entranceway but once he got there the hostile fire seemed to break. Skywarp's sudden rush and onslaught caught the Latverians off-guard; deep in the woods across the river Stinger caught glimpses of men diving in and out from behind trees as Skywarp's vengeful laser blasts peppered the forest floor in purple fire and splintered the trees into fiery kindling.

"Alright Stinger, from the river there is a drone exactly three meters back from my next laser blast. Ready?" Skywarp asked, pausing momentarily in his barrage.

"As I'll ever be big guy," Stinger said quietly, pulling the pin on the grenade.

Skywarp nodded once. "Fire!"

Stinger waited a fraction of a second as the purple blast exploded from the tip of Skywarp's cannon. The purple beam struck just short of its target, illuminating the drone; Stinger aimed then threw the grenade with as much force as he could muster. It landed right on target, sticking to the drone's thick chest armor. Almost two seconds later the drone exploded in a shower of green plasma and mechanical gears taking with it with it another drone that had been too close to the blast radius. Some of the soldiers were thrown high into the air, their screams of pain and surprise echoing into the night.

Just as the lieutenant expected, the once-organized offense of the Latverians fell into further disarray with the mysterious explosion of two of their drones. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, Stinger saw a purple flash fill the mine and felt the rush of air as it rushed to take the place of the void.

"Lord please be with that crazy son of a bitch," he whispered as he watched Skywarp rematerialize right in the middle of their enemy's garrison. The pilot reluctantly cocked his pistol and slipped from the mine's entrance, picking his way down the talus-covered slope and towards the battle.

* * *

Skywarp was in his element. The moment he reappeared deep behind the enemy ranks he began to rain laser fire on anything that wore a uniform and moved. Using his infrared sensors, it became quite easy to pick his targets. Most of the humans, upon seeing him so close and actually _armed _turned tail and ran. Those who didn't were quickly reduced to vulture food. Suddenly a large flare of red-white appeared on the sensor grid behind his optics. Instinctively, he ducked just as a green laser streaked past his helm. Whirling simultaneously, the black Seeker fired a blast of his own, striking a drone directly in its single optic. It fell heavily to the ground, sparks spewing from the gaping hole, its limbs twitching from dying electrical impulses. _Three down, two to go,_ the teleport silently thought to himself. Taking a quick glance around he soon spied the remaining two drones. They were quickly advancing on his position, one coming straight toward him, the other trying to flank him on his six. _Wait for it…wait…wait_, he silently coached himself, as the two drones quickly closed the distance, their laser arms beginning to glow whitish-green. _Now! _

A solid green blast pierced through the air where the Seeker _used _to be; it struck the trees just to the side of the second drone as it too fired a shot. Seconds later, Skywarp reappeared behind the drone that had attempted to flank him, grabbing it around its bulky neck in a solid headlock. The first drone homed back onto Skywarp's unique signature and fired another laser shot. The black Seeker was prepared, however, and used the drone in his grip as a shield. He felt the heat from the blast as it permeated his "shield"; it even bubbled some the black enamel around his cockpit. Throwing the disabled slagheap to the side, Skywarp fired a shot at his last remaining robotic adversary, missing it by a hair's breadth.

"Frag it! I missed!" he cursed, powering up for another shot. Skywarp quickly closed the distance between himself and the drone, his cannons up and ready. He easily dodged the next blast and latched onto the robot's extended arm cannon. Gripping it at its elbow joint and using his hip as a point of leverage, Skywarp easily flipped the drone onto its back, slamming it deep into the ground. The black Seeker then placed his foot on the drone's chest armor and began grinding his thrustered-heel into its body, just as a human would grind a cigarette into the dirt.

The black and purple jet glared into the mono-optic, his optics alight with the fervor of battle. He aimed his laser cannon directly at the head pausing just long enough to say, "Give my regards to your creator." A single purple beam pierced the dwindling night. The fight was over.

* * *

Meanwhile across the river, Stinger watched in amazement as the Latverian search party disintegrated into mass chaos. Clearly, they had not expected the Decepticon to be armed and had grossly underestimated him and his capabilities. The pilot watched with a morbid fascination as the enemy soldiers literally melted under Skywarp's devastating rays. Even the drones proved to be little of a match for the black metallic dervish. It had worked; for whatever crazy reason it had worked. Skywarp's "jump in, and start shootin'" method had given them the upper hand, at least this time; Stinger knew their luck would run out eventually.

It was while watching the Seeker in action that Stinger began to reflect on his past experiences with Skywarp and his fellow Decepticons. He wondered how he had ever made it out alive from each skirmish. He and his human comrades were outmatched in every possible way, but it was his solemn duty as a soldier to guard his country from danger no matter the cost. He wondered what would happen, when and if he and Skywarp made it out of this crazy country, how their relationship would change. _Deep thought for shallow minds, _Stinger mused to himself.

He glanced up just in time to see Skywarp dramatically flip the last drone onto its back and then brutally slam his foot into its chest. He couldn't quite make out the words that Skywarp spoke, but then again he wasn't sure that he wanted to.

Seeing that the coast was clear, Stinger made quick work crossing the ice-covered river and getting to his robotic ally.

* * *

"Give my regards to your creator."

A blinding purple flash and then--**TRANSMISSION END**

"Well, well, well. This is most…intriguing. It seems that this Decepticon and his human ally have proven themselves most worthy adversaries against my men and my robots." The metallic being paused in his musings. He turned from the viewscreen, and placed a metal finger on his chinplate in thought.

"His technology is most impressive. It warrants a closer inspection. But in order to do so, I must improve upon my Doombots." If one could see underneath the faceplate, one would see a rather disfigured smile.

"Your regards have been well received, Skywarp. I would dearly love to meet you."


	7. Out of Flight, Out of Mind

**A/N: Thank you to each and every individual who took the time to review this story—you have my utmost gratitude! It's a real pick-me-up! Thanks again. Now then, this chapter could probably be considered a filler, but it's necessary to move the plot along. But don't fret; I've included a little drama throughout the chapter to keep things at least marginally interesting. Here's hoping I've still kept everyone in character. Happy reading!**

**Note: OTS-Officer Training School (US Air Force equivalent of the Army's Officer Candidate School)**

**Chapter Seven: Out of Flight, Out of Mind**

"You know there're going to be on to us big time, right?"

"At this point, I don't give a slag," Skywarp replied with vehemence. He turned and looked Stinger in the eye. "To borrow one of your favorite human phrases, they've pissed me off!"

The pilot raised one eyebrow. "Really?" he asked. "Was this before or after they ruined your paint job for the second time?"

"Ha-ha, very funny meatbag," Skywarp replied. "Maybe I should just shoot you now and save them the effort."

Stinger snorted with laughter. "Yeah, right; you need me too much."

In less than a nanosecond, Skywarp whirled around, one of his deadly laser cannons pointed directly at the pilot's head. The tip glowed with a deadly pinkish-purple haze. It was so close Stinger could feel the heat emanating from the barrel. The pilot chanced a glance into Skywarp's optics. Those optics were fierce, blazing infernos, their meaning undeniable.

"Let's get one thing straight here and now, _squishy. _I didn't need you before we met and I sure as _slag _don't need you now." He pressed the tip against the human's skull. "The only reason you're alive now is because of me."

Stinger felt his blood run as cold as the Latverian winter. His mind had told him not to trust the Decepticon, but his gut instincts had said to give the jet a chance. Even now with a laser rifle pressed against his skull, the pilot knew that something wasn't right. Stinger had seen this kind of reaction before. Men who had been in heavy combat or prolonged, high stress incidents sometimes never keyed down after the incident was over. Was this happening to Skywarp? Or was the Decepticon finally showing his true colors?

"Skywarp, buddy? I was just joshing with you a bit. Don't take me too seriously. But I have helped you a little, remember? I patched your wings back up and got those cannons back online for ya. And if you give me a chance, I'll try and get you back in the air, before those damn Latverians get to us. I promised you that much."

The cannon withdrew just a fraction.

"I can't fulfill that promise if you kill me now," Stinger finished. He stared directly into those fiery depths while trying his damndest not to flinch. It felt as if he wasn't even talking to the Skywarp he had come to know these past few days; it was if they were complete strangers, just as they were that very first night.

After a very long five minute stare-down Stinger finally saw a change in Skywarp's countenance. The blistering glare began to dim until the black jet's optics became a soft crimson. He powered down his cannon with a _whirr _and withdrew his arm. The Seeker then turned and sat against a tree, holding his head in his hands.

Stinger released his breath in a long sigh; he hadn't realized he had been holding it that long. Cautiously and never taking his eyes from the Decepticon, the pilot walked over to Skywarp and sat down next to him.

"What happened just then?"

Skywarp turned and looked at Stinger as if he were seeing him for the first time. He then cast his gaze to the noon sky. It was several minutes later that the he decided to speak.

"I've been on the ground for too long," he said quietly, almost too himself. "I've gotta get in the air again."

Stinger rolled the jets words through his mind trying to grasp their meaning. "So are you telling me that you're, like, claustrophobic or something?"

"Yeah, something like that," he replied, lowering his head to stare at the snow. The dazzling, crystalline white brilliance mixed with the duller scarlet tones of blood. Many of their fallen enemies still lay in the snow, left behind during the hurried retreat.

Skywarp directed his gaze back to Stinger. "I'm designed for the air, not trudging it up like a fragging ground-pounder, but you couldn't possibly understand being one yourself!"

It was at that moment Stinger understood and was equally floored by the situation--Skywarp was admitting a weakness to him. It was the last thing he was expecting, but if he considered Skywarp's abrupt behavior and vicious violence it made sense. To use an old cliché, Skywarp was like a shark out of water with the attitude of a wounded bear times ten. Using violence to cover that insecurity seemed like a logical Decepticon-like alternative.

With a sigh, Stinger countered the black Eagle's claim. "You're wrong there, compadre. Remember when you asked why I wanted to fly?"

Skywarp gave Stinger a quizzical look. "Yeah. So?"

"Ever since I was kid, I knew I wanted to fly—so did half the other boys I grew up with. It's like every little kid's dream at one point or another to become a fighter pilot and by the time we get to high school and college most of us realize it's a dream far beyond reach. But I didn't want to give up. I went to college first, got my degree and then applied to OTS. It was hard—damn, was it hard, but I made it. When I flew my first solo in the F-16, I knew I had found my place in this world and all those hours of blood, sweat, and tears finally paid off. My point is I do know how you feel." Stinger lifted his gaze from staring at the blood-soaked snow and met Skywarp's crimson optics with his own icy grey eyes.

"I may be a 'ground-pounder' as you so eleoquently put it but," he paused, a hard edge in his eyes, "I love flying every bit as much as you do and seeing as how you've pulled my ass out of the frying pan twice now, I _owe _it to you to get you airborne again."

The black and purple Seeker leveled Stinger with a serious look. "How do I know I can trust the word of a squishy? How do I know that you're not just using me to get out of here?"

"Well, I could ask the same about you. How do I know you're not using _me?_ Look, you may not completely trust me as a human, but as one flyer to another, will you trust my word then?"

Skywarp seemed to puzzle over the question before making his reply. His browplate was furrowed in concentration and his optics were dimmed almost to the point of being out completely. _The human has proven his worth so far, _he reasoned, sparing a quick glance at his cannons. _I might as well see this thing through._

With a reluctant release of air through his intakes, Skywarp agreed. "I see whatcha mean," he paused briefly, "I'll try, Stinger."

The pilot seemed relieved by the Con's words. "Alrighty then, but just one more thing, Warp."

"What?" the Seeker growled irritably.

"From now on, if you get frustrated with being grounded, can you direct those pea-shooters at something other than me?"

It looked as if Skywarp might have swatted him then and there, but then the Seeker began to laugh. It started out really low, barely audible to Stinger's ears but then it grew until his laughter filled the forest. In fact, Skywarp laughed so long and hard he thought he was going to blow a fuel line. When he finally got control of himself he replied, "Sure thing, small fry, sure thing."

* * *

_**Starscream, do you read? Come in Screamer. **_Thundercracker stomped a thruster impatiently while waiting for Starscream's reply.

_**What is it, Thundercracker?**_

_**I've found something pretty interesting. You might want to have a look yourself, **_the blue jet replied over his private comm.

_**Do not play guessing games with me! What is it? **_Came the snappish reply.

Thundercracker gave a sigh and rolled his optics; it was going to be one of those days. _**It's another crash site. **_There was a somewhat long period of silence before the Air Commander replied.

_**I'll be there immediately. Starscream out.**_

Skywarp's trail had quickly petered out to nothing, leaving Thundercracker and Starscream no closer to finding their lost wingmate than they were before. Deciding to take to the air again, the pair of Seekers resumed their grid-like search of the snow-covered terrain. It was only by sheer luck that Thundercracker caught the gleaming flash of metal and decided to circle back around for a closer look. This crash-site was the break he and Starscream needed.

True to his Commander's word, Thundercracker did not have long to wait. Ten earth minutes later saw the Second-in-Command sliding through the clouds as easily as silk sliding against flesh. Starscream transformed and landed smoothly beside his wingmate who stood not ten paces from the wreckage.

The red and white Seeker studied the crash scene before him, not missing a single piece of scrap metal. After recording the aircraft's serial number, he began to rummage through the wreckage. Thundercracker began conducting his own investigation on the opposite side. The first thing he noticed was the missing canopy of the plane—now that was very interesting. Lifting a piece of broken wing, the blue Seeker found a very tiny cube buried into the earth. Curiously, he plucked it from the ground and held it up to optic level, the missing canopy temporarily forgotten. "Hey look at this Screamer," he said after giving the cube a thorough scan.

The other jet glanced up from his rummaging, the scowl on his faceplate quickly transforming into a smirk. "That's exactly what I was looking for," he said, all but snatching the box from Thundercracker's fingertips.

Using the dataports and a few delicate wires within the index finger of his right hand, Starscream easily accessed and downloaded the information from the plane's flight data recorder. "This is what the human's call a 'black box,'" he explained to Thundercracker. "It should contain all the information needed to tell us what caused this plane to crash."

"Well, I don't think it'll help us find Warp any quicker," the blue jet grumbled.

"No, but it may give us a clue as to what caused him to disappear in the first place," Starscream countered. "Look at the tail number."

Thundercracker glanced at the small, triangular piece of metal jutting from the ground. Recognition instantly lit his optics. "That's the same human jet that was tailing Warp just before we broke off," he said, shooting a glance back at Starscream.

"Precisely."

Thundercracker walked over to the tail fin and squatted down to examine it closer. His fingertips brushed the cold, metallic grey surface. This had been the last plane to engage him and his wingmates in the air over Latveria. The blue Seeker remembered it well. Of all the humans he had fought while on Earth, the one that flew this particular jet had always seemed to evade their laser fire. Of course no human was a match for the Aerial Elite, but he had developed a grudging respect for this human over the last few years. This human had known when to keep his distance and on the same token knew when and how to strike. It was a thin chance, but it was possible that Skywarp and this particular human could have shot each other out of the sky. Thundercracker was a mech that gave credit where it was do, even if it was to an enemy and this wasn't an outlandish idea. He stood back up and approached his Commander.

Starscream had just finished downloading the flight data recorder's content. He glanced up to see his wingmate walking towards him.

"What's the verdict?" the blue Seeker asked.

"It doesn't look good TC," Starscream replied.

A puzzled expression crossed the addressed Seeker's faceplates, a clear, unasked question in his optics—_how worse could it get?_

Starscream elaborated. "We weren't the ones that shot this plane down. It appears that the SAM missiles fired at us were also intended for our human enemies as well."

Thundercracker grew thoughtful. "Are you telling me we weren't the only ones targeted in that attack?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you. Someone in this pathetic country doesn't want interference of _any_ kind," a harsh light appeared in Starscream's optics. Holding the black box in one blue hand, he crushed it as easily as a human crumbles a graham cracker. A thin trail of dust floated down from his palm only to be caught up by the wind.

Thundercracker hitched his wings in agitation. A dark, almost murderous glow made his optics burn like the blackest fires in Hell. Then in a deep, rumbling voice he replied, "Well, they should have thought about that before they shot Skywarp down."

* * *

"So Mr. Navigator, sir, where is the nearest base?"

Skywarp looked down at the pilot jogging beside his thrusters. "Give me just a moment to get our coordinates," he replied. Five seconds later… "Alright, it seems there are two bases we can pick from. One is thirty miles due north of here near a town called Doomstadt or we can double back to the base we attacked almost two solar cycles ago. Both are within a good day's walk. You're call, squish."

Stinger stopped beside a nearby stump and sat down to ponder the two options. Would it be worth it to head back to the base they ransacked or should they risk attacking a new target? Which base had the remnants of the search party gone to? What kind of reinforcements could they expect?

Skywarp propped himself up against a snow-covered tree. He reached up with a purple hand and gently brushed the snow from the higher branches—he definitely didn't feel like getting dumped on again. Satisfied that there would be no mini-avalanches, he crossed his arms over his cockpit and braced a thrustered heel against the tree trunk. Patience never was his strong suit.

Finally the proverbial light bulb flickered in the human's eyes. "I say we head back to the base we just came from. The way I see it any base we attack will probably be reinforced anyways. If that base is still operational, then logically it will be weaker than the rest due to reconstruction. If it's not operational at least we can snoop around and see if they left any clues behind. Sound good to you?" Stinger finished. "Skywarp? Uhh, Skywarp you OK?" he asked quickly, seeing as how the black Seeker was holding his head with one hand.

"Huh? What?" the Seeker said, scrunching his browplate in mock pain. "Oh yeah, yeah. I'm alright, squish. It's just…there for a moment or two you sounded exactly like Screamer explaining things--tends to give me a processor-ache when I have to listen to him explain his plans."

"Should I take that as an insult or a compliment coming from you?" Stinger asked. He stood abruptly and put his hands on his hips.

"Do you really want me to answer that?" Skywarp countered, a humorous glint in his optics. He stood up from his tree and began walking through the snow-laden forest.

_Thwack!_

Almost simultaneously a huge pile of snow fell directly on the Con's helm, the weight of which nearly brought him to his knees.

"What in the slaggin' Pit!?"

The burly jet whirled around while at the same time glaring up into the trees to see if any more white mush was preparing to attack him. Several thick conifer branches swung freely in the breeze, their load temporarily disbanded. Snow dripped indiscriminately down the jet's head and shoulders, one clump in particular making a lazy, wet track down and over the left chest turbine. Convinced that no further ambush was imminent, Skywarp leveled an angry gaze at the human who was now standing before him.

Standing just as innocently as you please, Stinger nonchalantly tossed a snowball into the air and caught it again. He did this several times before he even acknowledged Skywarp's scathing glare. "Funny weather we've been having. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Very funny, squishy…very funny," Skywarp said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "Just wait, you just wait. And since you think you're so smart and funny, _you _lead the way."

"How about I walk beside you like I've always done?" Stinger asked while snickering quietly to himself.

"Whatever meatbag, but I will not be held responsible should I accidently slip in this 'bad weather' and crush you like a bug," Skywarp replied, poking a purple finger at Stinger's chest.

"Well, I guess it's a good thing I have great health insurance, now isn't it?"

With that the two allies began trudging through the woodland, each keeping a wary eye and respectful distance between each other.


	8. Down for the Count

**Hello all, sorry for the long hiatus; but college has been a b**** lately. Updates are likely to be slow in the future until I complete this semester. But to make up for lost time, here's a nice, lengthy chapter for ya. Please enjoy as the plot thickens and don't forget to leave a review on your way out! Cheers!**

**Chapter Eight: Down and Out**

"I don't like it."

"Who cares what you like or don't like!"

"It's too risky."

"I thought you were a pilot. I thought your kind liked taking risks."

"Only calculated risks. This is suicide and you know it!"

"And tangling with us Seekers wasn't? If that's called 'calculated' risk, I'm surprised your species ain't extinct yet."

"Hey, leave the interspecies insults out of this!"

"Heh, you started it."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"DID too!"

"Awwwwrrrrrg! For the love of Mary! How did your commanding officer put up with you!?" Stinger exclaimed, slapping a hardened hand to his forehead in utter frustration.

"Oh, he tried. I just always made sure to teleport before he could blast me," Skywarp replied easily while curling and uncurling his violet-colored digits.

Stinger growled again in agitation; the purple and black Seeker could be so insufferable at times! He paced back and forth in front of Skywarp's thrustered heels as much for venting anger as for devising a strategy.

They had arrived at their base of choice only to find it mostly deserted. The duo had taken up residence on the same rocky cliff face they had occupied only days before. What they saw was not quite what they were expecting. A few soldiers lazily patrolled the perimeter, rifles resting on their shoulders. Most of the buildings lay in ruins, the sharp outlines of the destruction softened by a light dusting of snow. There didn't appear to be any new construction going on, which immediately made the pilot suspicious and Skywarp excited. Why patrol a desolated base? Was there something important buried in the ash and debris? Was this a baited trap? These questions and others had raced through Stinger's mind as they surveyed the scene in the growing darkness.

Naturally, Skywarp wanted to adopt the "shoot first, devise strategy later" policy which had quickly degenerated into yet another "disagreement."

"I still don't see why we can't just walk on in," Skywarp complained. The tree he leaned against groaned as if agreeing with the irate jet. "My weapons systems are online again and you saw how easy it was with the last run-in we had with these guys. What's the fraggin' problem?"

"It…it just doesn't feel right," the pilot replied, running a hand through his dark brown hair. It left his hair smooth and slick from the collected snowflakes.

"So we're choosing to set around on our afts because you don't feel right," Skywarp said, every word hot with anger. His optics shone a bright, cherry red in the sun's dying rays. Stinger was briefly reminded of all those childhood ghost stories with disembodied eyes floating in the darkness. It left him feeling no less creeped out. A shiver raced down his spine and it wasn't from the chill.

"Look. All I'm saying is I think we should think this one out a little more. They're going to be expecting us now that we've already attacked this base—and that goes for all the others as well. And even though it looks as if no one's home right now, I don't think that gives us the right of way to go barging in guns blazing," he paused briefly, "what if it's a trap?"

"So what are you suggesting, huh? We don't need to be stealthy this go around. I've got my warp drive and my cannons. I used a slaggin' tree last time and completely destroyed their base. How much harder can it be? In fact, why am I even trying to talk with you? I can do whatever I fraggin' please!"

Skywarp suddenly turned, his wingtip clipping the top of the tree he had been leaning on. As he made his way down the mountainside, he cocked his head ever so slightly to the side and called over his shoulder, "Since you're afraid to get your servos dirty, I'll let you know when I'm done cleaning house!"

"Skywarp, wait! Stop you stupid son of a waste compactor!" Stinger yelled back at the jet's retreating wings. But it was too late. The black and purple Con quickly disappeared into the murky depths of pine forest.

"DAMN IT!" Stinger cursed loudly while simultaneously punching the trunk of a tree. "Son of a bitch!" A few more curses streamed from his mouth as he gazed at his bloodied knuckles. The enraged pilot stared down the trail the Seeker had taken, calling him every foul name he could possible think of and then invented a few new ones. On one hand he could say to hell with it, and abandon the Con to his whims. After all, Skywarp seemed to have gotten on pretty well before their fates became twisted. On the other hand, that crazy jet had pulled his ass out of the fire on more than one occasion and as crazy as it sounded, he had come to view Skywarp as sort of a wingman—that friend who always had your back. He was a Con after all, and by all rights should have squashed, burned, or broken him a long time ago. But Skywarp hadn't.

The pilot's stomach twisted with indecision. He gazed at his knuckles one last time as his steely grey eyes became hard as granite. Setting his jaw, the pilot pulled his pistol, checked the rounds, and followed in Skywarp's footsteps.

* * *

Skywarp approached the base from its eastern side. His feet barely made a sound as he carefully stalked over the white surface. From almost 100 yards away, he surveyed the ruined base. Nothing had changed since the surveillance on the mountaintop. His plan was simple: warp in, wreak havoc, kill everyone, warp out. It was as simple as that. If Stinger didn't agree, too slaggin' bad. He'd show that paranoid bag of bones that nothing could stand in the way of a Decepticon.

He slowly drew air through his intakes and primed his cannons—it was time. With a flash of purple light he disappeared then reappeared directly on the parade grounds of the base. Instantly men scattered and panicked seeking refuge behind or under anything within range. Skywarp laughed with glee as the pathetic insects fled from the fury of his assault. This was even easier than he thought it would be!

Suddenly, he picked up a low rumble coming directly from behind. He pivoted on one purple thruster, sparks scattering across the ground in a fiery confetti shower. One of the ruined buildings exploded in a hail of wood splinters and concrete rubble, the dust obscuring Skywarp's vision. He quickly switched to infrared view and almost wished he hadn't.

In the dust cloud, Skywarp saw several massive figures emerge from underground bunkers, their arms glowing with a familiar green haze. He counted at least twenty and there seemed no end. Out of the cloud, the first of many drones appeared, its arm raised and ready to fire.

Skywarp couldn't quite place it, but something seemed different about these 'bots. They appeared bulkier and taller. Something was off. As the endless line of drones circled the Seeker, he reflected on his earlier conversation with the human. "_What if it's a trap?"_ For the first time that night, Skywarp regretted not heeding the pilot's warning. He shook his head irritably. _No sense crying over spilled energon, _he thought to himself. He lowered down into a crouch, arms outstretched and cannon tips glowing a murderous pink. "If I'm going down, I'm taking some of you glitchheads with me," he growled.

A blazing ball of green energy exploded from one of the leading drone's arms. It sizzled passed Skywarp's helm and obliterated almost 500 square feet of forest several yards behind him. The Seeker unleashed a volley of deadly laser blasts of his own, most of which ricocheted harmlessly off the drone's armor no matter the hit point. The small army of drones closed in creating a glowing, green halo of light around the black jet.

At that point, Skywarp realized he was fighting a losing battle. But he had one more trick in his subspace. "Later, bucket heads! I'm outta hear!" He activated his warp drive—only to discover it wasn't responding. Next, he felt his energy begin to slowly decline as if some invisible force were sucking his fuel lines dry. His heads-up-display began to fizzle into static and various yellow and red warning lights began to appear. Only one thing could affect him in this way: an EMP generator—one of the drones (if not all of them) must have activated one. A sense of anger and helplessness overcame him as he voiced his realization.

"I am so slagged."

* * *

As soon as Stinger heard the volley of shots, he knew the shit had hit the fan. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him plowing through snow drifts and stumbling over buried tree roots. When he arrived at the base's perimeter fence, a grisly sight awaited his eyes. In the middle of the parade grounds, Skywarp fought like a black demon. He was surrounded by drones; Stinger lost count at 25. Pink energon stained the ground ten feet around the Con's thrusters. Where once graceful wings donned his shoulders, there remained only smoldering stumps. Energon flowed freely from the wounds as well as from various other injuries across the jet's chassis. The pilot watched in horror as a drone fired another shot, hitting the Seeker directly in the leg. The blast instantly melted all of the surrounding armor, revealing pistons and wiring vital to the Seeker's mobility. Skywarp fell to one knee, still firing for all he was worth.

Suddenly all but one drone backed off the downed Seeker, leaving Skywarp to glare daggers at the one remainder. The drone raised its left arm as if to fire; and to Skywarp's credit his optics never wavered. But instead of a green blast of pure plasma, a glowing, energized netting shot out and covered the jet from head to thruster.

Stinger could tell the material was heavy; Skywarp collapsed completely onto the energon-soaked snow, a low moan escaping his lips and drifting on the wind. From his hiding place, Stinger watched with a mixture of shock, anger, and awe as Latverian soldiers gathered around the fallen Con, cheering and jeering. Some even spat on his body, a clear sign of contempt.

The pilot cursed under his breath, it was the most helpless feeling he had ever known—the feeling that a friend was in danger and there wasn't a _damn _thing he could do about it!

All of a sudden, a deafening crack of thunder ripped through the night sky causing many of the soldiers to hit the deck and others to cover their ears. But Stinger knew exactly what had caused that fearsome reverberation to shatter the heavens—a sonic boom. Suddenly, the sky began to rain a hellfire of pink laser blasts. From out of the low, winter cloud cover two F-15 Eagles appeared, engines screaming a song of destruction. One was a brilliant shade of sapphire blue with red and white pinstriping highlighting the tailfins. The other jet was colored a vibrant red and silver; it had blue and red pinstriping similar to the blue one. Stinger didn't know exactly what their names were, but he knew they were Decepticons and Skywarp's wingmates.

"Prepare for oblivion, earth germs!" A screechy, almost ear-splitting voice pierced the night sky. Stinger watched, mesmerized as the two jets transformed in mid-air, landing easily on thrustered heels and skidding across the blood-soaked slush all while firing unmerciful blasts at the Latverians. Most of the humans lay dead across the grounds; however, one thing remained unchanged: _all_ the drones still stood undamaged.

As one solid mass about 20 drones began to attempt to surround and corral the two Seekers. They succeeded in forcing the two Seekers to take cover behind the ruins of what used to be the motor pool. For a moment, it looked as if the battle would stalemate, but then the drones continued to close in and the closer the drones came to the jets the weaker the resistance they gave.

In that moment of time, Stinger knew he couldn't stand by any more. The fighting man within him yelled in fury, giving an almost demonic glow to his grey eyes. With a mighty cry, the pilot broke his cover and raced towards the phalanx of drones. It never crossed his mind that maybe the Cons would shoot him as well; it never crossed his mind that maybe he would die. All that mattered to him now was that these drones had to be stopped. Snatching a plasma grenade from his pocket, he pulled the detonation pin, slid to a halt and threw the projectile.

At that moment everything moved in slow motion. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the red and white Seeker raise his arm in his direction, only to have the blue jet knock the arm away. In front of him, one of the drones turned and aimed a fiery green plasma cannon in his direction just as the bright ball of blue plasma landed and stuck to its lower chassis. He dug his booted toes into the ice and slush, struggling for purchase. He began to sprint back towards the woodline, not once looking over his shoulder. A deafening roar erupted behind him, lighting the forest ahead of him as bright as daylight. Suddenly, the pilot found himself floating through the air—almost like flying again and then the world erupted in pain and all went black.

* * *

Stinger slowly awoke to a horrible throbbing ache in his right shoulder. Inky darkness gave way to a bleary, pastel of dancing color. Voices seeped into consciousness.

"Starscream, the human is waking," a deep, rumbling voice echoed within his ears. It was a powerful voice with just a hint of metallic echo. It made Stinger involuntarily shudder.

However, the next voice to reply made him wish for a set of earplugs.

"Good. Perhaps now we will get the answers we've been looking for." The voice was quite high-pitched, but distinctly masculine. It had a grating quality to it, unlike the smooth rumble of the first.

Wearily, the pilot struggled to sit. His right shoulder felt as if it were on fire. Tenderly he touched his left hand to the offending area. It was wrapped tight with a bandage, but a bloody circle colored its center.

"What the 'ell happened?" He slurred, still trying to focus on his surroundings. Slowly his vision focused on two very dominant colors—one blue the other silver. The blue blob slowly focused into the indigo-colored jet, who was squatted before him. His red optics glowed intensely, but were otherwise unreadable. Stinger noticed that the same pinstriping designs adorned his wings as on his tailfins. Behind the blue mech stood the silver and red one; his arms were crossed against his golden canopy and an angry light gave his optics a hellish glow. His chest and intakes were colored a vibrant crimson; his wings were silver with red and blue striping just like the blue mech. The rest of his body was painted a striking silver-white giving him the most contrast of all the jets. Both could have passed for clones of Skywarp, save for the color differences.

"_I _will be the one asking the questions, flesh creature," the silver and red mech stated harshly. He took one step towards the injured pilot and raised his right arm cannon to Stinger's head. "Now tell me, human, what is your connection to Skywarp?"

Stinger swallowed nervously while staring into the barrel of the cannon—this was going to be a long story.


	9. Introductions Anyone?

**A/N: Ehh, not very satisfied with this chapter; I personally think it comes across a little awkward, but I'll let you guys decide. It's a filler chapter, BUT it's a major turning point in the plot. It's an effort keeping everyone in character; I hope I pleased everyone. Please enjoy and review! (Sorry for the delay, but I had a glitch mouse in my computer ;)**

**Chapter Nine: Introductions Anyone?**

Stinger licked his lips nervously as he got an in-depth view of Starscream's null cannon. A blast of hot air wafted across his face as the cannon's tip delicately brushed his forehead.

If Stinger thought dealing with one flighty, hot-headed and tempermental transforming jet was stressful, then dealing with _two_ very flighty, hot-headed and tempermental jets who were looking for a lost comrade would probably be the death of him.

The pilot anxiously scooted back and away from the cannon tip; he frantically tried to collect his thoughts, but the threat of imminent death had him more than a little distracted. His eyes darted from one menacing figure to another; beads of sweat collected on his brow and perspiration further dampened his tattered flight suit. The biting wind whipped through the clammy clothing, multiplying the pilot's tremors. Stinger opened and closed his mouth as if to reply to the giant jet's demand, but his brain just couldn't coordinate with his lips.

"SPEAK FLESH CREATURE!" Starscream demanded.

"Uh…I…uh…uh…"

Thundercracker watched these proceedings with increasing irritability. He clenched his fists tightly, barely noticing the protesting whine of the servos in his knuckle joints. Time was slipping by like draining oil and each moment wasted meant their chances of recovering Skywarp grew less and less. He focused an intense glare in the human's direction before speaking.

"Are you or are you not the human pilot of the F-16 fighter jet FYAF 56-453 that was shot down approximately 55 earth hours previously?" the blue Eagle rumbled angrily.

Almost simultaneous, Starscream and Stinger turned their heads to stare at the squatting form of the blue Decepticon. Then as if a switch had been flipped, Stinger spoke.

"Yes, I was," he replied slowly, looking straight into the indigo jet's hellfire optics. "_He_ came to me, as strange as that may sound to you." Stinger continued his story, carefully relating each and every detail from that initial meeting to the first base attack to the cliff-side mine showdown up until his last memory grenading the drones. A brief silence enveloped the small group.

Suddenly without warning, a blinding blast of pink light seared the very point of the pilot's uninjured shoulder, scorching his suit and singeing the skin underneath. The frightened pilot yelped in alarm and pain while also allowing a curse or two to slip from his lips.

"What the hell was that for!? I answered your damn question!" Stinger cried indignantly, anger superseding his fear for the time being.

"_I _don't believe you, human," Starscream said, a haughty smirk gracing his lip components. He gestured sharply with his left hand. "That was a warning shot. Next time I won't be so generous. Now, as _entertaining _as that little tale was I want _proof _as to this alliance you claim to have with my subordinate."

"Proof?"

"Do you have an audio malfunction, earth germ!?" YES, PROOF!"

"OK! OK! Sheesh, don't blow a gasket!" Stinger exclaimed, still holding his burned shoulder.

"A blown gasket will be the least of your worries if you don't hurry up!" the scarlet Seeker threatened.

Stinger's eyes roved from one mech to the other as if his proof would magically appear before them. After all, it wasn't as if Skywarp had given _him _anything as testament to their lasting friendship! Just the thought of that absurdity almost made him laugh out loud in spite of this predicament. But the pilot knew where the tall, screechy one was coming from. If he were in their place he would probably be pretty irate over his missing wingman too. That thought brought a sudden influx of previously buried yet painful memories from four days ago.

He shook his head vigorously, trying to shake the memories away. _Think knucklehead, think. What did me and Skywarp do or say that would make these guys believe I'm sort of on their side?_

Then it hit him; it was all he had and if they hadn't heard it he was screwed. But it was the only conversion he and Warp had had that carried any amount of depth to it. He drew a deep breath and steeled himself for the coming oration. "Alright, I know I haven't spent as much time with Skywarp as you guys have, but we did talk a little."

Both Decepticon's cocked an optic ridge; one's features grew darker and angrier while the other held a hint of dispassioned curiosity.

"One night we got on the topic of the…uh," he paused feeling slightly awkward, "uh…opposite sex, so to speak. And your wingmate informed me of the number of girlbots he laid."

"And just how many did he claim?" the red jet asked darkly, his optics bright and dangerous.

"I believe he said 1,470 give or take a couple. Would you like a breakdown of Autobots and Cons as well?" the pilot asked, some of his old sarcasm returning.

The two mechs exchanged looks with one another.

"Anything else?" the blue one asked.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact there is. He said of all the femmes he ever laid, the best was actually an Autobot. This was like back before ya'll's war got started, of course. But I think he said her name was Chroma, Chromia or something like that?"

The dreaded veil of silence fell once again and Stinger feared he had said something wrong. As he watched, the blue mech dropped his head and his wings began to quiver.

_Oh, shit! Now I've really pissed him off!_ He thought apprehensively.

But he was quickly proved wrong. A deep grumbling noise came from the blue mech and quickly rose into a distinctive rumbling chuckle. The corners of his metallic lips pulled up into a small grin. The blue Con was laughing!

As Stinger's glance shot to the red-colored leader, he saw a flicker in those hell flaming optics as well as the barely discernable hint of a smirk.

"I think…I believe you now, human," the red and silver Eagle said evenly. Stinger heard a somewhat familiar _whirr_ and knew that the red mech was powering down his weapons. Lord only knew how many times he had heard a similar sound coming from Skywarp's weaponry. He sighed in relief.

The blue Con slowly rose to his feet; his frame still shaking from an occasional chuckle. He stared down at the dumbstruck pilot. "If I were you, human, I would make sure that a certain Autobot by the name of Ironhide did not hear that little story." With that, the blue jet turned and approached his counterpart, who now stood a few yards away.

"Uh…yeah…I'll remember that," Stinger spoke more to himself than anyone. He slowly slumped back onto ground and closed his eyes. Yep, these two were definitely going to be the death of him.

_Not long Afterwards…_

Stinger now found himself setting uneasily against a tree, him having brushed the snow away to allow the spot to be as dry as possible. He learned that the blue mech was called Thundercracker, a first lieutenant, and the red and silver one was Starscream, the Decepticon Second-in-Command. After witnessing his bold and in Starscream's words "ignorantly suicidal" attack on the drones, the Decepticons had found his body with a jagged piece of shrapnel piercing his right shoulder. There were no survivors save for him and that was due in part to Thundercracker's astuteness. They had doctored him just enough to get the answers they needed, and in all seriousness were not contemplating on keeping him alive, that is until the pilot told them of his exploits with Skywarp. He still wasn't feeling too comfortable around the big Cons (after all, Starscream nearly barbequed him earlier), but tensions had eased marginally since he had "proved" himself relatively trustworthy.

After "introductions," a two-hour grilling session by the SIC followed, which quite frankly made his debriefings with his Flight Commander look like a chat over coffee and donuts; at least his Flight Commander didn't threaten him _quite_ so often. Stinger tried to give the demanding jet every miniscule detail he could on his last seconds while airborne, the damage dealt to Skywarp, the repairs he had given him, the nation they were in, the weapons they had used, and of course a significant run-down on the drone army.

But now the pugnacious pilot was growing irritable; he still had no clue as to what happened to Skywarp and the two Seekers weren't exactly being forth coming. It was obvious that he had been captured. But Stinger was a man who desired details and in his line of work ignoring the details could be fatal.

Wearily he climbed to his feet. "All right," he yelled up to the two towering jets. Both Seekers had been conversing quietly a few yards. They turned and regarded him, irritation showing plainly in Starscream's optics.

"Just because I let you live, germ, does not give you the privilege to speak freely," the scarlet Con growled.

"I want to know what happened to Skywarp and DON'T even think of interrupting me," the pilot said angrily as Starscream made as if to retort. "Now I've told you what you wanted to know, and the least you can do is answer my one little request." He crossed his arms to emphasize his point, wincing a little in the process.

Starscream gave the pilot a harsh, burning glare. "No! The least I could do, I have already done! Which was to let you live." The two beings glared at one another for several long seconds, neither wanting to give ground. It was only after Thundercracker made a disgruntled snort that the stand-off ceased.

"Very well," Starscream snarled grudgingly. "There is not much to tell that you cannot already assume. As we were fighting the majority of the drones, a small group of those Pit spawns loaded him onto a transportational unit that was hidden in the trees off base. Thundercracker and I tried to reach him, but there were too many drones converging on our position for either of us to break away. As the transport drove away, that was when you chose to make your presence known to us. Thundercracker attempted to follow the drones, but he lost them to the terrain. Satisfied now?"

Stinger cast his eyes down at the snow. "Sort of." He looked at Starscream and Thundercracker in turn. "Anyway you guys could track him?"

Thundercracker spoke next. "No. The drones have some sort of signal dampener that interferes with our long range scanners. By the time I was in a position to follow them it was as if they just disappeared."

"Whoever did this, what do you think they want with Skywarp?" Stinger asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Starscream said. "How many humans in _your_ government would willing pass up a chance to capture an injured Decepticon, especially if they saw his capability?"

"Point," the pilot replied. "So what are we going to do?"

"We?"

"Yeah, _we_," Stinger said evenly.

Starscream crossed his arms over his cockpit. "And what makes you think _we _includes _you?" _He stooped down and poked Stinger in the sternum, hard. The lieutenant stumbled back a few steps and ground his teeth to keep from gasping in pain. Both shoulders were still incredibly tender.

"I've been through hell and back with that giant, walking metal kite! And God only knows he contributed to most of it, but I made that damn jet a promise that I would get him out of this damn icebox. Now he may have been your wingmate for Lord knows how long, but these past few days he's been like _my _wingman. Skywarp's saved my ass more times than I can count. Now, whatever you plan to do I'm coming with you—a pilot never leaves his wingman alone."

Stinger's fists were clenched so tightly he was leaving nail imprints in his palms. His breathing was harsh and quick. He had never been more serious in his life. One month ago, he would have never even considered coming to the defense of a Decepticon, let alone calling his most lethal enemy a wingman, but it was funny how life's little twists could turn your world and your thinking upside down.

Thundercracker listened to this exchange with interest. It was no wonder he, Starscream and Skywarp had had such a tough time trying to shoot this human down in the past. He had a wit and rationale that most humans he had come into contact with substantially lacked. Looking at it from Skywarp's point of view, he could see why his wingmate would work with this human, albeit grudgingly. Now whether Starscream would see the benefit to working with this former enemy remained to be seen. Screamer never did like being in the same room with someone whose ego rivaled his own. He for one saw the human's involvement as an advantage. If on the chance Warp had been taken to a populated area, then the human could be useful in rousting out information before a full scale assault. He expressed these thoughts to Starscream.

Starscream scowled fiercely as he listened to Thundercracker's reasoning, but could find no fault in his wingmate's logic. He still didn't like the idea of working with a pathetic flesh creature, but their options were becoming increasingly limited.

"Oh, all right!" the red Seeker ground out. "But the first time you become a liability, human…"

"Yeah, yeah I get the picture! I'll be vaporized or squashed or whatever other method of termination you come up with. Now what's the plan, Screechy?"

"Call me that again, flesh bag and you'll meet your Creator much sooner than you expected!"

"Is he always this uptight?" Stinger asked Thundercracker.

The blue Decepticon leveled a steady gaze on the human, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lip components. "You have no idea."

* * *

_Weapons Systems: Off-line…_

_Warp Field Generator: Off-line…_

_Navigation Systems: Off-line…_

_Communications Systems: Off-line…_

_Transformation Sequence: Off-line…_

_Flight System: Off-line… _

_Optical sensors rebooting….50%_

_Audio Receptors: Online_

_Energon Level: 30%_

_Damage to Mainframe at 75%. Immediate repairs advised_

_Emergency Stasis Lock in 5.7 decacycles_

"_No slag," _Skywarp wearily thought to himself. Blurred shadows and blobs of light shifted and mixed as his optics tried to recalibrate. He tried to shift his body but instantly regretted the action as dozens of warning lights assaulted his HUD and a near unbearable amount of pain coursed through his neural sensors.

He groaned loudly as the pain flamed through his body. He tried to focus the shifting light, but the recalibration process had not completely finished. Suddenly, a _hiss_ sounded from somewhere to his left and he heard the distinctive sharp _clack _of metal hitting metal; however, the steps were much too light to be a Cybertronian or a drone. He tried to turn his head to see who was approaching, but stopped instantly as more searing pain threatened to overload his neural processor.

The footsteps stopped just shy of his position, somewhere in the vicinity of his left elbow joint.

"We finally meet Decepticon Skywarp," a menacing yet sophisticated voice spoke.

How…do…you…_zzt_..know…my…_zzt…_name?" Skywarp asked, his vocalizer buzzing in protest.

"Oh, I know much more than just your name. There is nothing that goes on in my country that I do not know about," the stranger replied easily.

"Who…_zzt…_are you!?" Skywarp demanded. His optics flashed intermittently.

"I am Dr. Doom, supreme ruler of Latveria."

"Never heard of ya."

A dark chuckle echoed within the room. "I am not surprised. You Decepticons have always held an air of superiority over us so-called lesser life forms, but that shall soon change."

"Don't count…_zzt_…on it!" the black and violet jet spat.

"Oh yes it will and you will be the one aide in my victory!" The figure by the name of Doom laughed loudly into the semi-darkness. "For you see, Skywarp, my Doombots have already proven that they can take down an elite Decepticon warrior such as yourself. Albeit, you were not up to full capacity, but the timely arrival of two other Decepticons gave me a better idea of my drones' performance."

"Two others?" Skywarp voiced more to himself than to Doom.

"Yes, two other jets built exactly such as yourself—the remainder of Megatron's elite Aerial Guard."

"No! TC, Screamer?" A murderous glow lit Skywarp's optics as bright as flames. "If you've..._zzt..._hurt them…" he trailed off and struggled to rise, ignoring the sharp protests of his badly damaged body, but in his weakened state, he could not overpower the chains that bound him firmly to the floor.

"No need for distress my metallic friend; they are functional…for the time being." Then Doom's voice took on a more sinister air. "But had not that insolent pilot interfered, the results of my Doombot's performance would have been more conclusive…"

_Stinger! That crazy son of glitch followed me after all!_

"… as a result, your comrades will live to see another day."

Skywarp internally breathed a sigh of relief; maybe there would be a chance after all.

"However, I cannot say the same for your human ally. He did not appear on my scans after the explosion."

At those words, it felt as if Skywarp had received a kick in the fuel pump. Stinger gone? No, it couldn't be! That Pit-spawned fragger was much too stubborn to just die! He refused to believe it!

"You just wait, fleshling," the black and violet Con growled. "When my wingmates find me, you'll wish that you had never tangled with the might of the Decepticons and you had better hope they make your death quick and painless, 'cause I certainly won't!"

"But you see, Skywarp, _you_ will be the downfall of your Decepticon allies, for once I replicate your teleportation ability, my army will be unstoppable."

The jet felt a cold metallic hand pat the remnants of his forearm armor. The touch was enough to make the Con snarl in anger and try to yank his arm away, but the snarl quickly turned into a cry of agony as Skywarp's injuries objected to his sudden movement.

"I must thank you, Skywarp. Your contribution to my final project will be most helpful."

The metallic-sounding footsteps began to walk away. Dr. Doom's evil laughter harmoniously mixed with Skywarp's anguished roars. Even after the doors hissed shut, the echoes of anger and evil still reverberated in the darkened room.

**(A/N: The aircraft number in this chapter is strictly fictional; if there is such a number it is a co-wink-i-dink (coincidence). For future reference, a cycle equals roughly one hour; a decacycle equals roughly 10 hours. Just my own little time conversions ;)**


	10. Here We Go! Let's DoSeDo!

**A/N: Here's a nice little exciting chapter for all you patient readers. I sincerely hope it meets your expectations, for it was quite a difficult piece to write—if writer's block was a physical ailment I would probably be in the hospital having brain surgery to remove it! Please enjoy and if you liked it, please leave a review on your way out! Cheers!**

**Chapter 10: Here We Go—Do-se-Do!**

Under any other circumstances Don "Stinger" Kesinger would be in his element. After all, he was a USAF pilot--a lover of speed, power, and the miracle of flight. But unfortunately, these weren't normal circumstances and Don Kesinger was about as far out of his element as a nerd at a jock party--he felt as such too.

The thirty-year-old pilot of five years experience gripped his knees with white-knuckle intensity. If he gritted his teeth any harder he was certain they would shatter just like the cheesy cartoons he used to watch as a kid. But the thing that both irritated him and scared him to the point of insanity was the fact he had no control whatsoever.

He watched the flight stick move about its own business as warily as a husband watches his mother-in-law making dinner. In all honesty, he hadn't been this nervous since receiving his results as to whether he would make OTS or not.

Suddenly, a low chuckle reverberated throughout the cockpit, rattling the panicky pilot down to his boots. "Nervous are we?" Thundercracker's deep voice resonated from somewhere within the instrument panel.

"Do you blame me?" Stinger ground out between gritted teeth. "I am flying in a jet that has spent the past three years of my career trying to turn me into a mortality statistic, and you have the damn nerve to ask me if I Am NERVOUS!? WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK!" Stinger snapped, each word spoken rising into a crescendo.

Thundercracker chuckled again. "So you willingly partnered with Skywarp without so much as a glance at the consequences and yet now you hesitate to align yourself with his wingmates. I believe you humans refer to such circumstances as hypocrisy."

Whatever angry retort the pilot had to say quickly died in his throat as the blue jet's words sunk into his brain. He turned his head to stare out over the clouds as they rocketed across the Latverian sky. He tried to rationalize away the blue Con's rebuke, but Thundercracker had a point and a good one at that. He slowly grinned to himself as he thought of the absurdity of it all—Skywarp, his wingmates, and himself caught right in the middle. God definitely had a sense of humor; this proved it.

He turned his face back around to the instrument panel. "All right, you've got me there, compadre," Stinger replied, feeling marginally more relaxed about sitting in a cockpit once again. "I guess I should count my blessings…at least I'm not flying with Screechy up there." The pilot inclined his head to indicate the blue and red Eagle that flew slightly forward of their position.

"Screamer wouldn't let a human touch his chassis, let alone be in his cockpit, even if his spark depended on it," the blue and grey jet replied. "Albeit, I'm not too thrilled with this idea any more than you are, but if it means we rescue Skywarp then I'm willing to sacrifice a little dignity to get the job done."

"Geez, you guys talk about me like I'm the scum of the earth," Stinger joked light-heartedly.

"You are."

"Oh. Well, then. Uhhh, geez this is awkward," the pilot said, stumbling over the words with as much grace as a deer on ice. Slightly embarrassed, he ran his hand through his hair distractedly.

"But I suppose if Warp could put up with you for four days without squashing you into a greasy puddle, then maybe not all humans are as disgusting as I first thought," Thundercracker added, more as an afterthought than anything. Wisely, the blue Decepticon changed the topic of their conversation. "Do you really think that Skywarp will be located within this country's metropolis?"

"It's as good a place as any to start," Stinger said, relieved that the Decepticon had changed the subject. "I can slip into the city and try to dig up any clues. Try and see just who we're dealing with here. Folks love to talk and the stranger the better. If anyone has seen Skywarp or heard about him I'll bet my right arm that someone will say something, especially if the price is right. I've still got that soldier's uniform I 'borrowed' from that guard when me and Skywarp raided their base the first go-around. Hopefully, I can sneak around undetected."

"And what if you get caught, human? What then?"

"Well, I guess your liability policy on yours-truly will have expired then, won't it? I'll be one less cog in the gears for you two to worry about," Stinger snipped.

Thundercracker only gave a non-committal grunt, opting instead to accelerate and close the distance between himself and Starscream. He wasn't too keen on flying close to the Latverian city known as Doomstadt, but so far their search over the frozen countryside had yielded zero results. The caravan that had carried Warp away had just disappeared without a trace. There wasn't even so much as an energon droplet from one of Warp's many injuries. It was frustrating and deeply puzzling to the cerebro circuits.

After much argument and "heated" debate (Starscream did attempt to vaporize Stinger again) the trio had come to the conclusion that espionage was the only other viable option at the moment. Being outnumbered by drones almost as powerful as they themselves were, as well as being AWOL from Decepticon headquarters meant they couldn't outright attack the tiny country. For one they knew too little of their enemy, second, news of the attack would alert Megatron as to exactly where his missing soldiers were and third, it would draw the Autobots like cyber ants to spilt energon. So, the plan was now to fly Stinger as close to Doomstadt as possible without drawing any unwanted attention, let him infiltrate the city and see if the fleshling could find any information of use, either on Warp's whereabouts or whomever took him. Not exactly a plan to go into the "World's Greatest" book, but it was better than sitting on their afts waiting for the drones to find them. He vectored air through his vents in the human equivalent of a sigh—the lengths he'd go to pull Warp's tailfins out of a jam.

"Thundercracker, we're almost to the drop-off point. Get ready to land," Starscream's voice filtered over the com, yanking the blue jet from his musings.

"Affirmative," he replied gruffly while adjusting his elevators for the landing. Suddenly without warning, a green bolt of plasma shot over his right wingtip, scorching the blue enamel of the wing's surface.

"SLAG!" Thundercracker cursed in pain, "Screamer! We've got company!"

"Evasive maneuvers, NOW!" the red and blue Eagle screeched while simultaneously flipping over into a vicious barrel roll and disappearing into a cloud bank.

"Where the hell did they come from!?" Stinger exclaimed, whipping his head around to see past Thundercracker's thrusters. Not far behind, perhaps no more than mile were five large black dots and they were growing larger by the second.

"I have no fragging clue; they didn't even show up on my scanners," Thundercracker replied. "Just hang on fleshy, you might be in for a rough ride."

Stinger grinned wickedly in spite of himself. "You're talking to a _fighter pilot_, my friend; you're singing my song!" He quickly tightened the harness straps, grey eyes gleaming for the first time in days. Finally, a situation he could understand and react to accordingly. And the best thing was he wasn't on the receiving end of this air battle, no sir!

"_Hang On!" _the jet growled as he pitched up almost 90 degrees. The sudden change in inertia threw Stinger back into the seat. He howled in excitement as they continued to accelerate, climbing at a blistering rate that no normal F-15 would be capable. At the peak of his climb, Thundercracker rolled back over his vertical axis, flipped right-side up and rocketed back towards their aggressors.

"_Whoooo-hooooo! Yeah, baby!"_ Stinger yelled with glee as they rapidly approached what he now recognized as robot drones. Payback time! In a flurry of smoke, the powerful Con unleashed a volley of incendiary missiles at the oncoming drones. All four missiles flew straight and true and impacted the first two drones in formation. A cloud of flame and roiling black smoke engulfed their enemy as Thundercracker began to level out.

"I think we got 'em," Stinger commented as they flew over the thick, black cloud. No sooner had the words left his mouth than several green bolts of plasma sizzled the air around them. "Awe, shit!"

"I _think_ you need to think again, human," came Thundercracker's dry response. He immediately whipped back around into a terrifying, right-banking turn, his wings perpendicular to the ground. Outside, one could see ghostly white vapor vortices streaming from the wingtips as he rocketed through the turn. It was all Stinger could do to maintain consciousness, even with his training he didn't know if he'd be able to keep from blacking out if Thundercracker kept pulling these intense g-maneuvers. His face contorted into a painful grimace as the g-forces threatened to pull him into the floorboard. The blue Seeker rocketed by the dispersing smoke cloud and to his dismay saw all five drones still fully functioning—not a scratch to be seen on any of them. As he flew past the drones, Starscream reemerged from his cloud bank, null laser cannons spouting fiery pink fury. The red and blue rocket shot past Thundercracker as if he were suspended on strings.

"Feel my fury you pathetic, slag-sugging, glitch-ridden scrapheaps!" Starscream proclaimed to the heavens as he charged headlong at the first drone. His powerful laser blasts impacted against the drone's armor, but didn't so much as faze it. Instead, a strange ripple-effect shimmered the air immediately surrounding its body. Starscream snarled in rage as the drone he had just fired upon raised its cannon and fired another plasma bolt.

"I don't believe it! My null rays have never failed before!" he cried, diving low below the drones. He and Thundercracker quickly regrouped and shot into another cloud bank to stall for time. It didn't allow for much, for as the two Decepticon's exited out the other side, the pack of Doombots were not far behind.

"Starscream, none of our weapons seem to have any effect on these guys," Thundercracker said as they blasted across the sky. Green plasma bolts lit the sky around and behind them like a sick fireworks display and those blasts were getting closer by the astrosecond.

"Brilliant deduction, TC! Did you come up with that one on your own or did the human help?" came the sardonic retort.

"Cut through the slag, Screamer!" Thundercracker said, anger seeping into his normally laid-back demeanor. "What do we do now!? We can't fly forever."

Starscream was silent for several long seconds. "It appears that our concussive, energy-based weapons are being blocked by some kind of energy field. So, let's try another approach. I want you to release a sonic assault."

"Are you sure about that, Screamer? The percussion waves will…"

"Don't question me, Thundercracker! I am your commanding officer and you will do as I say!" Starscream snapped as he whipped into another barrel roll.

"Sonic assault?" Stinger questioned, arching one brow in curiosity. Up until now he had been relatively quiet, focusing all his energy and concentration in staying conscious on this aerial roller coaster ride.

"You'll see," Thundercracker said elusively. The blue jet began to slow in speed allowing the drones to catch up with him.

"Thundercracker, what are doing?" Stinger threw a hasty glance behind himself, watching with ever-increasing nervousness as the drones ate the distance between them. His hands dug into the upholstery of the seat in an effort to keep from gripping the flight stick. It was taking every last shred of his self-control to _not _grab that stick and try to pilot the jet himself. A small vibration felt through his hands was the only warning he received. All of a sudden, a thunderous boom rocked the cockpit, slamming Stinger against the seat. Instinctively, he turned around; behind them he saw a large, circular white vapor cloud—a tell-tale sign of a sonic explosion. "What in the hell!?" Did you just break the sound barrier? At _subsonic _speed? How is that possible!?"

The drones stopped in mid-flight as if they had hit a concrete wall. The air around their immediate body area shimmered like heat waves as the sonic shockwaves hammered them mercilessly. Three of the five started to spontaneously spark as wild arcs of electricity leaped from their bodies like frenetic snakes. While these drones were struggling with the after-effects of the sonic boom, Starscream had double-backed and began to unleash another furious volley of null rays.

They struck their intended targets with precision accuracy. One drone took a hit straight through its single optic; it's large, metallic head exploded in a shower of molten metal and jagged shrapnel allowing the body to plummet to the terra firma below. The other two drones sustained hits across their armored chests and torsos. With no force field to shield them, the paralyzing bite of the null rays took immediate effect, freezing the drones' operating processor and mobility circuits. With these systems incapacitated, the drones lost control of their flight capabilities and dropped from the sky like oversized hailstones. Far below, two black mushroom clouds sprung from the forest floor like malignant fungi. If he could, Starscream would be smirking in triumph, but as it was he simply fired his thrusters and began to scan for Thundercracker's signature.

In the meantime, the remaining two drones had recovered from Thundercracker's attack, being further back when the first three drones took the brunt of the assault. They quickly converged on the blue Seeker and were gaining on him by the second.

"Step on it, partner," Stinger encouraged as he kept a wary eye on their pursuers, "Those rust buckets aren't giving up anytime soon."

"Hang on!" Thundercracker warned a split second before he banked left ninety degrees and then abruptly back to the right. Green plasma blasts streaked through the air around them. Stinger felt as if he was trapped in a pepper shaker; he had experienced the extremes of dogfighting, ironically quite often against the very jet he was riding in. But this experience was on a whole other level. Thundercracker could and was performing acrobatic feats impossible for modern fighter aircraft despite the fact his alt mode was an F-15C Eagle. Had not the Decepticon modified his cabin air pressure and oxygen levels, Stinger had no doubt that at this point he would have been one more statistic going down in the books.

Abruptly the blue Eagle shot upwards jamming the pilot once more deep into his seat; Stinger felt that tell-tale vibration begin once again, but as he braced himself for the inevitable boom to come, Thundercracker cried out in pain and then lurched violently to the left.

"Starscream! I'm hit!" he ground out over the com, even as his body stalled in the air and began to spin rapidly towards the earth.

"Son of bitch!" Stinger cursed loudly as they quickly began to lose altitude. "Where're you hit?" He was sweating profusely at this point, but his voice was even and steady—evidence of his years of experience and training. He watched as the altimeter's hands rapidly began to move counterclockwise; they were losing altitude and fast.

"Lower fuselage," came the pained response. "But I think I can pull us…out of it."

Stinger wanted to act; his training was screaming for him to take action, to eject if possible and save his own skin, but his inner conscience froze his actions. He knew he needed to trust in Thundercracker's ability; the blue Con had kept both of them safe thus far and abandoning him now would be equivalent to abandoning one of his old squadron mates.

The spin began to slow and Stinger could feel Thundercracker trying to reignite his engines. Suddenly, both thrusters fired and Thundercracker quickly ended the spin and none too soon. The altimeter was reading at 1,500 feet; they had plummeted 28,500 feet in a matter of seconds. Stinger sighed a breath of deep relief; that had been a little too close for comfort.

"Thundercracker, how are you? What's your status?" Starscream asked, a tinge of concern underlying the commanding tone in his voice.

The lights on the instrument panel dimmed momentarily as Thundercracker ran a diagnostic. Some several thousand feet above them, Stinger could see one little dot maneuvering erratically in an attempt to avoid two other tiny dots.

Seconds later the lights brightened and Thundercracker's rumbling voice filled the cockpit. "My aerial sensor circuits are fried; I can't see to maneuver."

Starscream didn't reply. This was bad news. If Thundercracker couldn't see to maneuver, then he couldn't evade hostile fire; he would be a sitting duck. And this left Starscream with two-to-one odds; not exactly favorable conditions for either of them. Transforming wasn't an option. For one it would expose Stinger to imminent danger and two, none of them were as maneuverable in the air as they were in alt mode. Also, Thundercracker's sonic boom was the only weapon that could weaken the drones just enough to make their other weapons viable. At this point, unless Starscream could pull a miracle out of his thrusters, it looked as if the Doombots might have gotten the upper hand.

"Do you have a manual override for your flight systems?" Stinger asked quickly as they cruised in straight and level flight.

"I would have to re-route power to certain systems to make it possible." He paused as if thinking. "Are you implying what I think you are, human?" the blue jet asked, the slightest edge on his voice.

"Unless you have a better idea?" Stinger retorted. "Look. I fly and you shoot, unless your weapons systems are off-kilter as well, in which we would be genuinely screwed. I've only ever flown F-16s, but the principles should be the same. It might be our only chance."

It wasn't the most favorable idea. Thundercracker had never been piloted by a human before and he wasn't too keen to start now, but Stinger had a point. He was useless just flying in a straight line practically blind and they were getter farther away by the second. Thundercracker remembered Stinger well from all of their previous battles. For a human, he had handled an aircraft every bit as skillfully as if he were a Seeker; the only drawback being the inferior construction of the aircraft itself. He was one of the very, very few fleshlings that had yet to be shot down by himself, Starscream, Skywarp or the Coneheads and that was highly respectable in his books. A decision needed to be made._ Well, if Warp found him trustworthy, I guess I'll give him a chance as well. Primus help me._

"All right, human. We'll give it a shot," Thundercracker replied reluctantly. The instrument panel lights dimmed once again as the blue jet began to re-route the power needed for the transfer. Stinger inhaled deeply then released his breath in a very long, drawn out sigh. He'd never flown an Eagle before and had only a slight idea of how the craft would behave in the air. With firm and respectful hands he gripped the flight stick and began to study the instrument panel. Until now, Thundercracker had the instruments only for looks, to make his alt mode blend in more easily should the need arrive. The Seeker usually flew by the sensitive sensors that were located in various areas around his fuselage, but that last blast had caused just enough damage to render him aerially blind. Stinger quickly found and identified all the gauges he'd need to fly this bird successfully. The lights brightened once again and Thundercracker's voice filtered into the cockpit. "Your targeting system will be projected onto the glass of my cockpit; it's about as close to what you're used to as I can get. Get me locked on and I'll handle the rest. If we are to use my sonic assault, we need to be close to those drones in order for my sonic boom to work effectively. Too far away and they'll just shake it off; too close, they'll shoot us and we're both headed for the Pit. Got it?"

"Affirmative," Stinger replied, his voice calm and collected. Not ten minutes ago, he was a nervous wreck flying in a former enemy. Now, he had a job to perform and it was a do-or-die mission. It felt good having that flight stick back in his hands; he felt whole, complete, for he was doing the job he'd always dreamed of and had trained rigorously for hours upon hours, but the fact that one other life besides his own rested in his abilities as a fighter pilot didn't quell the swarm of butterflies in his stomach. This brought a whole new meaning to being one with your aircraft. "Let's do it!"

The pilot quickly pushed the throttle forward and leaned the stick over to the right. The jet responded almost simultaneously, as if it were an extension of his thoughts; it banked smoothly to the right heading back towards the fray. Adrenaline rushed through his veins as they rocketed towards Starscream and the two remaining drones. He increased the throttle pressure and felt Thundercracker's afterburners kick in, blasting them closer and closer. On the glass at the front of the cockpit, various little lights indicated his targets and the one friendly. Suddenly one of the little lights blinked red, indicating a locked target.

"I've got him," Thundercracker growled as he unleashed a volley of 20mm rounds at the drone. The bullets peppered the back of the Doombot, effectively capturing its attention and drawing it away from Starscream.

"Thundercracker! I thought you said you couldn't fight!?" Starscream asked, anger mixing with relief over the com. The red and blue jet made good on the offered distraction and put some distance between himself and the one other drone.

"I never said I couldn't fight; what I said was I couldn't see," the blue Eagle replied matter-of-factly.

"Then how are you…"Starscream trailed off, "…OH, YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!" he shrieked, causing both Stinger and Thundercracker to wince.

Before the blue Seeker could reply, Stinger interjected with some words of his own. "Hey, Screechy! Long time, no see! Want to see how a real pilot handles things?" he taunted, as he and Thundercracker barrel-rolled across the sky, one Doombot trailing not far behind.

"Why you little…!" But before Starscream could finish, he cut himself short and rolled to avoid a plasma blast.

"Hey, there human; the ejection seat still works just fine, you know," Thundercracker growled warningly, but his voice lacked any true anger. Inside he was quite amused at the human's audacity to smart-mouth Starscream. You could definitely tell he had spent some time with Skywarp.

"I say let's finish this aerial do-se-do here and now," Stinger called out over the radio, banking Thundercracker to the left.

"Agreed," Starscream added, although with some restraint. "I have an idea. I'm going to fly straight toward you. When I give the command, you bank right and I'll turn left. It's a risky maneuver and one you humans have probably never performed before under combat situations. Do you understand, fleshling?"

"Affirmative, Screechy One," Stinger said happily.

"Stop calling me that, fleshling or Primus so help me I'll shoot you down, and to the Pit with Thundercracker!"

"Don't be getting any ideas, Starscream. My targeting systems are still functional after all. At least wait to kill him after I land. I would prefer to remain functional."

"Then you better find a way to keep that fleshling's vocal processor shut, if you know what's good for both of you," Starscream threatened. With blistering speed, he shot through a cloud bank, a Doombot hot on his thrusters firing a hail of plasma bolts one after the other. Stinger kept Thundercracker in a tight "S" pattern, weaving back and forth in an evasive maneuver. "Now! Bank and fly directly towards me!" Starscream commanded.

Automatically, the pilot responded banking Thundercracker into a smooth, but tight turn. He could see the tiny dot that was quickly growing to become a brightly painted red and blue jet directly ahead of him. This was a type of maneuver only performed by acrobatic pilots, such as the Thunderbirds or the Blue Angels. He had never performed this kind of stunt in actual combat or even training; the margin of error was just too great. _But these are robots_, he reminded himself, _far superior in airworthiness and mathematics than we are_. "I hope you have good reaction times, Thundercracker," Stinger all but whispered.

Even over the roar of his engines, the blue Eagle heard the pilot's whisper. "You just do as Screamer says, _when_ he says, and I'll take care of the rest," Thundercracker assurred the human. He felt the pilot's grip tighten on the stick in response. Behind both jets the drones' cannon arms began to glow a vivid green, the ball of light growing larger and larger. Stinger gripped the flight stick as if it were life manifest; his fingers ached from the strain. His ice grey eyes never wavered as he and Starscream approached each other at sonic speed. _Come on, come on…Anytime…_

"_NOW!" _

As soon as he heard the order, Stinger jammed the stick as far to the right as possible. Thundercracker snapped into a ninety degree turn, a maneuver far from possible by human standards. On the other side, Starscream did the same. Two green plasma bolts seared the air where either Cons' thrusters had been milliseconds prior. The blasts converged into a huge greenish-white explosion. The two drones could not change their flight path quickly enough and were subsequently engulfed by the blast. A second explosion rocked the air as both Doombots collided with each other and fiery orange flames mixed with green plasma residue. Shrapnel and plasma rained from a thick, black cloud; small tendrils of flame accompanied the metal pieces like fiery streamers. The fight was over.

Stinger brought Thundercracker down into a large, mowed hay field. As the jet rolled to a stop, he leaned back in the seat and breathed a sigh of relief. He was alive. He had flown a Decepticon and lived as well as faced off with the Doombots for a fourth round! The harness unbuckled of its own accord and the canopy slid open, allowing the brisk winter air to cool Stinger's heated body. He took the invitation without hesitation and carefully dropped himself to the ground beside the jet's landing gear. Stinger took several brisk but shaky steps away and watched as Thundercracker transformed. The blue Con slowly stood, no doubt do to his injury, his shadow casting Stinger in darkness. His crimson optics glared down upon the human, before a small smirk pulled at the corners of his mouth components.

"Not bad, human. Not bad at all."

Stinger lowered his head in embarrassment. Coming from a Decepticon, a compliment was as good as a promotion! "Eh, you needed eyes in the sky and I had 'em to spare."

"That may be true, but not every human can handle flight as easily as you do. You seem to have a gift for it that I've never seen in other humans I've fought."

At first Stinger didn't reply; he was at a total loss for words, so when the words did come to him he kept them short and frank. "Thank you. That means a lot to me coming from someone like you," Stinger replied. When he looked back up, he noticed that Thundercracker's optics were focused elsewhere and that the shadow surrounding him had gotten distinctively darker. He turned around to see Starscream standing behind him. How something that size could sneak up on him without him hearing it or feeling it was more than disconcerting and he was more than aware that he wasn't exactly on Starscream's list of friendlies. A sudden feeling of regret washed over him for taunting the Air Commander not too long ago. He gulped.

The large mech's arms were crossed over his cockpit. Large scorch marks marred his forearms, torso and left wingtip. His optics burned like molten metal and he had an indiscernible smirk on his face. "For once, and I can't believe I'm saying this," he muttered under his breath, "I agree with TC. For a human, you exhibit exceptional skill in aerial combat."

Stinger's eyes widened in shock. A compliment? From Starscream nonetheless!? He stared at the Second-in-Command speechless.

The smirk grew a little wider. "Now let's see how competent you are in the field of intelligence. Doomstadt is approximately ten miles away. Thundercracker and I need to find a safe place to conceal and repair ourselves. I'm sure our unknown enemy will have seen that little aerial display as well as half of this Primus-forsaken country." He knelt down to be closer to Stinger's level. From a small compartment just below his right air vent, Starscream removed a tiny device and handed it to the pilot. "Take this communication wafer. It will allow you to reach us once you find the information we need. I would also suggest checking in approximately every two earth hours. If you get captured, there is little we can do, short of leveling the city and that may prove counter-productive."

Stinger carefully took the wafer from between Starscream's fingertips. "Gotcha. Anything you may need in town for repairs?"

Starscream narrowed his optics and tilted his helm in thought before replying. "Not at the moment. I'll let you know after we've completed more thorough diagnostics. Now, quit stalling before I change my mind and decide you're more trouble than you're worth!" The big red and blue Seeker quickly stood and walked off in the direction of the woodline, his steps causing the ground to tremble slightly.

Stinger turned back around and faced Thundercracker who in turn tossed a small green satchel to the pilot. Stinger caught it easily and slung it over his shoulder. "Well," he began, adjusting his satchel, "I guess I'll meet up with you two cloud beaters later. Wish me luck."

Thundercracker nodded his helm once. He watched as the pilot began to trudge across the field in the direction opposite of the one Starscream had taken. As the human disappeared from optical view, the blue Seeker turned to follow after his wing commander. He silently hoped that the pilot would be able to find something, anything as to Warp's location. But as the human's often liked to say it was looking more and more like searching for a needle in a haystack.


	11. The Survivor of DBase Four

**A/N: Hey all! Spring break has arrived! For me at least! XD. I had intended to bring Skywarp back into this chapter, but Starscream, TC, and Stinger said otherwise. In any event, we will be hearing from our favorite teleport soon. Thanks everyone for the outstanding reviews; you make this last semester so much more bearable—I write for you. Please enjoy.**

**Chapter 11: The Survivor of D-Base Four**

Evening shadows danced across the tranquil countryside like feathery sprites, as a soft, winter wind played through the tree branches. Long dead grasses twisted and swayed in the breeze, patiently waiting for spring's warm embrace. The peaceful country setting proved to be a stark and violent contrast to the events that were unfolding in the sleepy country known as Latveria.

Nestled against two small hillocks, a dreary and dilapidated barn kept a silent vigil over a long abandoned pasture. The dried and stubbly remains of stinging nettle and thistles gave testament to the area's lack of care. On the left hill, the remains of a crumbling riverstone foundation could be seen peeking up from the remains of the snow. Sikorsky's abandoned farm had long been held in regard as haunted, a cursed place for lost souls to wander aimless. For centuries the Sikorsky family had tried to grow crops, raise livestock and to just eke a living from the rocky soil. And for centuries, the farm was plagued with poor harvests, sickly animals and dying family members. The last remaining members of the Sikorsky line finally decided to abandon their homestead and flee for the New World. Since then, no one had stepped up to claim the derelict property.

That is, until now…at least temporarily. The abandoned Sikorsky farm provided Starscream and Thundercracker the perfect refuge to rest, to refuel, and to allow their self-repair systems to make some headway. Rumors of the land's cursed history kept nosy locals off the premises and the central location of the barn ensured no stragglers could just wander off the main road; the barn was surrounded by at least 50 acres of terrain on all sides. Large patches of wild rose bushes and scrawny saplings blocked the old roadbed as if to help hide the pathway leading to the two weary warriors.

Tiredly Thundercracker leaned his frame against one wall of the stone-built barn. The wooden timbers that helped to distribute the building's load creaked protestingly as he sat against the cool stone surface. His self-repair system was still mending the damage sustained by his aero sensors. Besides that one particular hit, he had only sustained some minor dermal burns, nothing that couldn't mend itself over the next cycle or two.

On the other side of the barn's interior, Starscream mimicked Thundercracker's pose, his broad silver wings nearly spanning the width of the structure. His optics were dimmed to a very dark rose color and his chin rested peacefully against his chestplate. At first glance, the flier appeared to be snoozing peacefully in recharge, but Thundercracker knew that wasn't the case. He had known Starscream for way too long to be fooled that easily.

"Starscream, if you try to think any harder your processor is going to fritz like that damn Autobot Prowl," Thundercracker commented, breaking the serenity with his deep rumble.

Starscream raised his helm quickly, optics flashing to life in a bright burst of ruby light. "If anyone in this trine engages in excessive thinking, it would be you," he retorted, cocking an optic ridge in mild amusement.

"Maybe," Thundercracker murmured, "but worrying over things beyond our control is not going to help our situation any."

"Who says I'm worrying?" Starscream replied.

"Don't give me that slag, Screamer. You're just as worried about Warp as I am. Ever since we saw him taken by the humans, you've grown more edgy than normal."

Starscream adjusted his bulk into a more comfortable position as he pondered Thundercracker's words.

"I have been a little tense lately," the red Seeker admitted grudgingly.

Thundercracker waited patiently for Starscream to continue. There weren't very many things that rattled his superior to the point of silence. A vocal Starscream was a normal Starscream; it was when Screamer entered his quiet, brooding mode that you needed to tread carefully.

Finally after several moments of silence, Starscream spoke. "It disturbs me deeply, TC, when I think about all that has happened in just these past few breems. These drones, these abominations, seem to grow more powerful each time we fight them. They know exactly how to counter our weapons and have systems of their own every bit as powerful as ours. Who is developing these drones? How are the humans' developing this kind of technology? And what gain are they hoping to achieve with it?"

"Maybe it's to take care of us once and for all," the blue flier offered with a shrug of his shoulder vents. "That seems logical to me."

"Then why would they have shot down the American pilot?" Starscream countered. "That action of itself is not logical. Not that humans are logical creatures to begin with," he added snidely. "If these humans were out to terminate us, why attack a potential ally? Unless their motives are more nefarious in nature." He raised one blue hand to stroke his chin thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" Thundercracker asked, genuinely puzzled. "The humans have been fighting each other long before we ever came into the picture. Maybe this country just wants to be left alone by everyone, including other nations."

"Possibly. But don't forget that our raid was in Symkeria and even though we skirted the airspace bordering this country, we never actually flew over this territory. _They _shot at us first including our human…_ally._" Starscream spat the last word with extreme distaste, his faceplates scrunched into a grimace. "That is a clear sign of hostile intent. If they truly wanted to be left alone, they would have never fired a single missile unless we provoked an attack first. That's usually how humans function politically."

"So how does Skywarp tie into all this political mumbo-jumbo and why do I get the feeling this thing is going beyond the usual 'experiment on the alien' gist?"

Starscream continued to rub his chin, allowing the question to hang in the air. Finally he said, "I wish I could give you a definitive answer, TC, but as it stands, it looks as if that is exactly what the humans' are planning to do and unfortunately they've already witnessed Warp's unique capability."

"You really don't think they could…" Thundercracker trailed off, sitting up straighter and leaning slightly forward. His optics were red pools of concern as the realization of what Starscream was implying sank in. "There's no way they could replicate _that_…could they? Megatron has been trying to replicate instant teleportation for millennia without any success."

"Almost two cycles ago I would have agreed with you, but now I'm not so certain, especially after our little skirmish this evening. Whoever designed these scrapheaps has gone to great lengths to ensure they are nearly indestructible. And as much as it pains me to admit it, they have done a rather exceptional job. If whoever is behind all this is able to replicate Skywarp's warp field technology, I doubt even Megatron would be able to defeat them."

The barn grew deathly quiet as Starscream's last words hung in the air like an ominous fog. Thundercracker turned his head to one side and stared at the filthy dirt-covered floor. Starscream dimmed his optics once more, contemplating what he had just said. This was certainly something he had not expected from the humans. They had always been more or less a nuisance under his thrusters, vermin--germs to be ignored and eradicated. But now…it appeared as if the humans had finally developed a force that could pose a serious threat to himself and the rest of the Decepticons. It had been all he and Thundercracker could do to hold the drones at bay back at the base. Looking back now, had not the human pilot thrown the grenade that destroyed the majority of the drones, he and Thundercracker would have probably met Primus that night or worse, been taken prisoner just like Warp. It twisted his circuits to know he owed a _human _his life; perhaps that was why he was searching so hard for an excuse to eliminate the pest. But as fate would have it, he now needed to rely on its competence in order to find and rescue Skywarp. He swore that Primus was laughing at his expense this moment.

The consequences of the humans gaining access to Skywarp's teleportation ability would be disastrous, at minimum. As he had said earlier, he would have never believed the humans capable of producing such powerful technology in such a short time span. Someone or something definitely knew their way around robotics and weaponology.

At least with Skywarp he was _one_ mech with such a powerful capability and he never really utilized it to its full potential unless he was pranking someone. But with an army of near-indestructible drones capable of teleportation…well, some thoughts were better left unfinished.

* * *

Stinger adjusted his army green satchel for the umpteenth time that evening. He was almost to the city and frankly, he couldn't wait to get there. The young lieutenant had carefully kept his distance from the major roadways, staying just far enough away to not be seen yet close enough to navigate the winding turns and make some time. The cover provided by the forest was beginning to wane and he would need to find a place to change into his Latverian soldier's uniform.

As he searched for a patch of thick brush to change in, his mind was racing to formulate a plan for finding Skywarp's whereabouts. Fortunately, the Latverian dialect was not the dominant language in the tiny country, so his speaking English would not raise any immediate red flags—he would just have to curb his southern accent.

He soon came to a thick patch of fir trees; the long sweeping branches were thick with dark green needles and small patches of snow helped to shield him from prying eyes. The young pilot quickly stripped out of his tattered flight suit; it was a little more than a rag now anyways. Swiftly, he donned the guardsman uniform, paying particular attention to the various rips, tears and burn holes throughout the fabric. By the looks of it, it appeared as if he had just walked off a battlefield. Suddenly, his gaunt face lit up with an unnatural light as the "eureka" moment sank in fully. _I'll just pretend that I am a survivor of the base me and Skywarp attacked! _

In all honesty it was probably the most foolhardy, idiotic plan he had ever come up with and it most certainly meant imminent capture. But if there was one lesson that he had learned from being with Skywarp, it was that in some instances the most crazy, hare-brained, sporadic ideas often worked best. He needed information and needed it quickly, and the fastest way to complete that task was to walk straight into the lion's den. What could go wrong? A hell of a lot. What could be gained? A friend's life. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Once he had finished dressing, the pilot quickly dug a shallow hole at the base of one of the fir trees. He made sure to still have his knife, as well as a pistol. He tucked the knife and scabbard carefully into his right boot and covered it with his pants leg. Even though he was pretty handy with a firearm, whether it be rifle or pistol, his weapon of choice was a knife for close quarter combat--a bit old school, but quite a bit handy in some situations and certainly a lot quieter. Next, he slowly picked up his trusty pistol and studied it with regret in his eyes. He was pretty certain that the Latverian army didn't issue Beretta 9mms, so therefore it would be a dead giveaway should he be discovered. He placed the pistol in the satchel and dug around in the contents of the bag. A small grin split his lips as he found what he was searching for. Withdrawing his hand, the pilot withdrew another smaller pistol that he had stolen from the Latverian base. It was quite a bit more streamlined than its American counterpart. Although smaller in size it certainly weighed a good bit more. Its barrel was wider and thicker and there was no chamber for shells. It also had what appeared to be a battery gauge built into its butt; that detail alone told Stinger it was an energy-based weapon. He had never fired this pistol before and was a little unsure of its capabilities, but it was better than nothing. He carefully tucked the weapon into a small pocket on the side of his pants. If it were discovered it would not cause as much as a fuss as his Beretta. It would probably be easier to sneak in without weapons but he would be damned before walking into the heart of enemy territory unarmed! Once he ensured his weapons were firmly secured and hidden, he dropped the satchel along with the remains of his flight suit into the hole and covered it back over with pine needles. Taking a deep breath, he proceeded to walk towards the roadway. It was do or die time.

He traveled the road bed for about a mile when a grand and majestic sight widened his eyes. As Stinger crested the final hill, a beautiful city stretched before him. Around it were tall, magnificent stone walls that would rival Skywarp in height. From the hills crest, he could see hundreds of houses aligned on neat and orderly streets. Many of the houses had white-washed walls with dark brown or black trim, very similar to the Carpenter style homes back in the States. But the most beautiful piece of architecture that greeted his grey eyes, as well as dominated the center of the city, was the colossal stone castle. It was absolutely breath-taking. Tall stone watch towers graced the corners and long streaming flags and banners snapped proudly from the staffs at the top. The weather-beaten stone walls echoed time itself, a testament to the medieval era from whence they were built. Of all the things Stinger expected to see in this God-forsaken country, a beautiful gem of a city was not on that list.

Resolutely, the pilot trudged from his perch on the hilltop and walked slowly towards the imposing iron gates. He really didn't need to dress up for the part of a battle-weary, base survivor. Almost five days in the harsh, Latverian backcountry and continual running from armed patrols and monster robots had taken a lot out of the spunky pilot. He had dropped a little in weight, and his cheeks were pale and gaunt from malnutrition. The narrow, white scar running along his left cheek was thrown into sharp relief. Numerous scratches and shallow lacerations marred his body. His shoulder was still tender and terribly sore from the shrapnel blast; the skin surrounding the wound was an angry red whereas the wound itself had finally begun to scab over. The once spotless tan and red-trimmed guard's uniform was now covered in filth, burn holes and rips. Several brass buttons were missing as well as the name badge. It certainly appeared as if the pilot had barely survived Skywarp's attack not so many days before instead of participating in it himself. Now if he could just pull off the wounded soldier trick.

* * *

Dusk bathed the land in husky greys and deep purples. Two guards kept a solemn vigil over the southern entrance gate of the city. It was their duty to monitor the citizens of Latveria as they made their way to and from the city. Most were farmers come to sell their produce within the marketplace. Others were merchants conducting business errands. Some came by vehicle others by true horsepower; regardless, all the citizens seemed to be living peaceful, busy lives as they conducted their business in contrast to the guard's dull, monotonous sentry duty. They weren't the only guards at the southern entry. Adjacent to either side of the massive gate were two large stone towers; at the top of each were two more guards, silently standing sentry over Latveria's jewel, their mission to spot trouble from afar. Perhaps as the dusk continued to deepen and bathe the countryside in darkness was as to why the tower guards failed to notice a drunken shadow stumbling closer to Doomstadt. However, their counterparts at ground level appeared to be much more astute.

One looked up sharply as a faint noise caught his attention. "What was that?" he asked his partner.

"What was what?" the other replied, turning to face his fellow soldier. Another noise, this one slightly louder grabbed both guards' attention. Quickly both men looked up and caught the silhouette of a stumbling figure slowly making its way towards them. The evening darkness made it difficult to make the figure out as it continued its haphazard path towards the formidable iron gate.

Suddenly, the shadowy shape fell face forward, a low moan of pain escaping into the coming night. Both of the guards exchanged looks with one another, then one quickly ran to the fallen figure while the other ran to the small guardhouse to contact an ambulance. The one guard quickly reached the fallen man and upon recognizing the tattered remains of his nation's uniform loudly called to his partner, "He's friendly!"

Laying his rifle to one side, he gently rolled the injured ally onto his back. "Hey! Hey! Stay with me soldier! Can you speak? Talk to me!"

A harsh cough racked the soldier's body; he reached up and gripped the guard's shoulder tightly, his eyes wide with fear. "Where am I?" he asked hoarsely.

"You're all right, soldier," the guard said soothingly, "You're here at Doomstadt's southern gate."

A look of relief seemed to wash over the injured man's features. "Thank God," he whispered, releasing his grip and lying back onto the ground. About that time the guard's partner came jogging up. He unslung his rifle and squatted down on the other side of the fallen man. In his hand he held a first aid kit. He immediately ripped the remainder of the uniform from the man's upper torso and began attending to the various cuts, scrapes and lacerations that decorated the man's body.

"Can you tell us what happened to you?" the second guard asked brusquely.

"I…I'm not sure," the man stuttered. "One minute I was cleaning my rifle and the next it seemed as if the barracks exploded. The sirens sounded and I rushed outside and there was this…this huge winged machine tearing the base to pieces." The man closed his eyes as if he were reliving every terrifying moment. He shuddered as the second guard applied rubbing alcohol to one particular nasty shoulder wound. "Our robots didn't seem to stand a chance; men were screaming, running, shooting. I remember running up to the thing with some other men and shooting at it—and that's about it. Next thing I know, I'm lying face down in the snow about a hundred meters in the woods." He grimaced as another douse of alcohol seeped into another cut.

"Easy, friend," the first guard said as he steadied the injured soldier. "You must have been overlooked by the search party; there are several men still missing . How long were you out there stumbling around?"

"I don't know—a few days, I guess? I've lost track," he mumbled. Suddenly he reached back up and grasped the first guard's shoulder again, an almost manic look in his grey eyes. "Please tell me they found that thing! Please tell me it has been destroyed!" he pleaded.

The two guardsmen exchanged looks once more; the second nodded his head to the first. The first guard looked back down at his wounded comrade. "Yes. The machine that attacked D-Base Four, a Decepticon, has been contained. After the attack, Supreme Commander Doom had all the bases reinforced with the latest national security drones in the event it would appear again. D-Base Four was undergoing salvage operations when it showed up for a second assault; however, our superb leader's creations were able to bring it down easily," the guard finished, pride in his country evident across his face. "It will be one less Decepticon we will need to worry about once Doom launches his campaign to rid the world of their evil."

The guard's patient seemed satisfied with the answer for he relaxed his grip again and slowly slumped to the ground once more. Before anymore questions could be asked, a siren's wail could be heard screaming in the night, drawing closer and closer with each passing second. The second guard quickly finished dressing the last wound and closed the first aid kit. He then asked, "What's your name, comrade?"

Another hacking cough racked the wounded man's body before he could reply. "Radek, sir. Jacob Radek."

The guard nodded once before leaving to meet the ambulance, which had arrived in a flurry of dust. Two attendants rushed over with a gurney and quickly began to assess his medical condition. Satisfied with the guard's hasty patchwork, they quickly, but smoothly placed the wounded soldier onto the gurney and deposited him into the back of the ambulance. The vehicle made a neat U-turn and headed back into the city, lights flashing minus the siren.

Relieved of their charge, the two guardsmen returned to their hut and made preparations to resume their watch. They felt quite satisfied with themselves. The beginning of the night had proven to be quite excitable, a much appreciated change from the regular routine. Not only that, but they had found and helped a fellow comrade-in-arms, one of very few survivors of D-Base Four. But had the guards known they had just aided and abetted the instigator of D-Base Four's assault, they might not have felt quite so pleased with themselves.


	12. Out of the Frying Pan Into the Fire

**Chapter 12: Out of the Frying Pan; Into the Fire**

It had worked. It had worked a hell of a lot better than he thought it would. Actually his plan worked so well that Stinger wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do now. If Skywarp were here, the answer would have been relatively simple--shoot the hell out of anything that walked, then quickly make a getaway using that snazzy disco light show with the Stargate disappearing act. Well fact of the matter was Skywarp wasn't here, he was a bit outgunned to try and shoot everybody (not to mention there were civilians around) and within a matter of hours they would discover he was as phony as a two-headed jackalope, not to mention he would have to come up with a disappearing act of his own that didn't actually involve snazzy purple lights and rips in the time/space continuum. It was a tall order to fill for a tiny human. It was best just to play along for now and hope for a break soon—real soon. _On the bright side, I'm receiving some pretty damn good medical attention, _he thought to himself.

He continued to lie on the gurney faking his best half-conscious routine; Lord only knew he had plenty of real time experience frequenting his squadron's bar back home. With a lazy eye the pilot kept tabs on the EMT that was rushing from one side of the ambulance to the other. He was currently busying himself with adjusting the IV as well as keeping a constant vigil on all of Stinger's vitals. _So far, so good. At least these guys don't expect anything yet._

Before he knew it the ambulance pulled to an abrupt halt. Stinger cursed silently to himself as he was yanked against the gurney's restraints. Sure he faked a few injuries, but that didn't mean that the actual ones had quit hurting just yet. The doors to the rear of the bus were yanked open allowing brilliant, pale orange florescent light to blind him momentarily. Stinger barely heard the shouts of excited attendants and nurses before being rushed through two large double doors and into the classic white hallways of a hospital. He hated not being able to see anything but for the flashing brilliance of ceiling lights; for all he knew they could be rushing him right into the waiting arms of the Latveria military police. Quickly after entering the corridors, the gurney came to a halt inside a small examination room. His binds were released and he felt smooth gentle hands prop him upwards into a sitting position.

"Now then Private Radek, I'm going to give you a brief examination and then we'll get you settled into a room before the doctor comes and sees you. Is that all right?" a smooth, feminine voice greeted his ears.

Stinger's eyes slowly adjusted to the blinding light of the exam room and came to focus on a rather pretty, petite nurse. Her bright auburn hair was tied into a bun at the base of her neck and her clear blue eyes regarded him with warmth and compassion. He could only stare dumbstruck. Having spent days staring at Skywarp's ugly metallic mug, seeing and hearing a woman was quite a shock to the pilot, but certainly a welcoming one! For once Stinger let his tact and gentlemanly manners fall by the wayside as a goofy grin stretched across his dried and parched lips. He would probably regret this, but then again that list seemed to be growing lately. Finally he replied, "For you, doll, you can do anything!"

* * *

Ok. So it wasn't everyday you got to flirt with a hot, enemy nurse, but just the same the pilot didn't regret anything about that brief physical examination. Carla sure knew how to do her job! Shaking his head from his reverie, Stinger slowly stood to his feet and wobbly made his way to the small window that overlooked the city. Dawn was just beginning to break across the peaked roofs of the city, bathing the sleepy buildings in warm reds, oranges and pinks. The castle stood majestically against the sunrise, the only shadowy shape in an otherwise radiant setting. The city certainly was one of the most beautiful he had ever seen. He lowered his head from the view as a dark thought turned his eyes a stormy grey. Somewhere out there was Skywarp. Looking at the sight before him, it was hard to fathom that a city of this splendor could harbor such malignance. He needed to find him and quickly; he wasn't helping Skywarp just sitting on his ass in a hospital room flirting with the nurses. He now knew just who was behind all this madness and he needed to put a stop to it—before things got out of control.

Turning quickly, he limped over and bent down next to his bed. He silently thanked God that he had been allowed to dress himself. If he hadn't, the nurses would have certainly found his armaments and possibly the communication wafer Starscream had given him. So far he had slipped under their radar, but he was staying on borrowed time. He slipped his hand under the mattress and checked to ensure that the weapons were indeed still there. Next, he slid his fingers a few inches to the left until they brushed a small, flat hard surface. He grinned slightly as he pulled the wafer from its hiding place; he had no doubt that the Screaming One would not be pleased that he hadn't checked in as often as ordered. The red and white Con seemed to be the hypersensitive, anal-retentive type of CO; he'd had enough of those to last a lifetime. It was one reason that he really enjoyed egging the red Seeker; those types were just so much fun to watch when they got pissed off! But on the other hand, the fact that Starscream was a thirty something foot tall robot and had the capability to squash and/or vaporize him in less than a second did tend to curb his humor, if only a little. Fortunately, he was here and Starscream was…wherever he was, so that was a little encouraging as he looked the wafer over.

He clutched the wafer in his hand then rolled his wrist to regard his watch. He still had about half an hour before the morning nurse made her rounds. He should be gone by then. He slipped the gown over his head then reached for his pants. Although the pants had a few burn holes, the nurses had allowed him to keep them until he could secure a better pair. Lean, powerful muscles flexed and stretched as he donned the battle-torn clothing. The nature of his job demanded that he be in the best physical shape possible in order to withstand the rigors of high g-force combat maneuvers. He had always been a man proud of his physique and his body showed it. He finished buttoning his fly then turned and sat on the bed's edge and slipped into his boots. When he was finished tying the laces, he rested his elbows across his knees. _Well here goes nothing, _he thought with reservation as he pressed a smooth button on the alien device.

A slight static fizzed across the connection. Suddenly that all-too familiar, ear-shattering voice sounded over the link, and it sounded angry.

"_What in the slag have you got yourself into?! Do you have any idea what time it is?! I gave you explicit orders to report to me at least every two earth hours! Pathetic, earth trash cannot even follow the most basic of orders…!"_ The tiny device seemed to all but leap from his hands due to the intensity of the voice.

"Hey now, wait just one cotton-picking minute, Screechy! It's not like I've been sitting in a beach chair sipping iced tea! This place is harder to get into than Wal-Mart the day after Thanksgiving! Cut me some slack, will ya? And it's not like I have an eternity to tell you every frickin' detail either, so listen up!" Stinger whispered furiously, his face turning red with anger. _Good grief, this guy fusses more than my ex-girlfriend! _Stinger thought to himself.

When Starscream replied his voice seemed somewhat more restrained, but just barely. It still sizzled with hostility. "_So, just what kind of conundrum have you worked yourself into?"_

"Well first of all, thanks for caring! Anyways, I faked being an injured soldier and got myself stuck in a hospital. Good news is I know who took Skywarp and I have a pretty strong feeling the guy is operating somewhere in this city, but your guess is as good as mine as to where."

"_What is the name of this person or persons?" _Starscream hissed.

"One person. Goes by the name of Doom," Stinger replied, turning his head to glance at the closed door to his room. He glanced back down at his wristwatch. Time was growing short.

"_What a fitting name for one who will soon meet his own."_

Stinger suppressed a shudder. There was no hiding the malignancy in that tone! "Yeah well, I'm getting ready to break out of this joint. They're going to be on to me anytime now. Got a rendezvous point?"

"_Travel due east once you exit the city. Thundercracker will…"_

Starscream never finished his directions, for at that moment the door knob to the room began to twitch. Stinger depressed the button then shoved the tiny wafer back under his mattress just as the door opened to reveal a nurse and one other person.

The nurse smiled brightly at him then turned to introduce the stranger. "Private Radek, this is Mr. Victor Spindler. He is head of the Latverian Intelligence Organization and will be asking you a few questions this morning." She smiled once again, nodded to the stranger then turned and closed the door.

"Greetings Private Radek," Spindler began before taking a seat in the visitor's chair. He spoke in a strong Latverian accent; it resembled the Romanian accent in many respects. He set a small briefcase beside the legs of the chair then directed a pair of pale blue eyes in Stinger's direction.

Stinger smiled warmly in return and extended his hand. Spindler reached one skinny arm and shook the proffered hand. His grip was weak and he barely clasped the pilot's fingers. _There's my first indication, _Stinger thought grimly to himself. He was a firm believer in judging a man's character by his handshake. A firm grip exuded confidence and sincerity; a weak handshake usually indicated a person of shady character or just being plain lily-livered. This guy definitely fell into the latter category in both handshake and appearance. Spindler wore a nicely tailored, tan business suit but it still didn't hide the fact he was a painfully thin man. His face was gaunt with sunken cheeks and he wore a pair of black horn-rimmed glasses that only served to accentuate how beady his watery blue eyes were. His hair was a thinning, sandy blonde and had receded almost all the way to the back of his skull. The man smelled of bureaucracy and governmental red-tape. On the outside, Stinger was all friendliness, but his sixth sense was screaming suspicion.

"I have been told that you were a survivor of the attack on D-Base Four; is this correct?" Spindler began, lacing his spidery fingers together and laying them in his lap.

"Yes, sir. That is correct," Stinger replied easily.

"That was a horrible attack, no? Many men died that night. It is fortunate for us that you were one of the few that lived. Just what was your official position while stationed there?"

_Oh boy, he's digging my grave. _"I was a guardsman on the outer perimeter. Say, just what is this Question and Answer session for?" Stinger asked curiously, cocking his head to one side to add to the illusion. Mentally he knew exactly where this was leading and he didn't like it one bit.

"If you don't mind Private Radek, I'll be the one asking questions, not you," Spindler answered in an infuriatingly polite tone. He squinted his eyes and adjusted his position in the chair. "So tell me, Private Radek, what do you remember the night of the attack and please spare no detail." Those blue eyes stared at Stinger intently, resting briefly on the pilot's scar before making eye contact once more.

Stinger inhaled deeply and then slowly released the breath as if trying to recall the details. His sharp, grey eyes didn't miss the fact that Spindler's eyes had noted his scar. _He knows. I better act before I lose control of this situation._ "Well, like I said earlier," Stinger began, "I really don't remember much except that…_we kicked your Latverian ass_!"

As fast as a striking rattlesnake, the pilot leaped to his feet and hooked a vicious right fist into those sunken cheeks. He felt the man's flesh split and bright red blood spattered his hand. The force of the blow knocked the intelligence agent from the chair, but it didn't stop him from reaching a hand to his beltline where a small caliber pistol was tucked just out of sight. Stinger caught the move immediately and retaliated with a powerful sidekick to Spindler's face. The agent's head snapped back as if attached to a whip. It wasn't enough of a blow to knock the man unconscious, but it dazed him enough to allow the pilot to leap onto his body and yank the gun from its hideaway.

Stinger stood and backed away quickly, the gun pointed directly at the agent's head. "Get up! Nice and slow. Keep those hands where I can see 'em!"

The blue eyes burned like gas flames, but Spindler obeyed nonetheless. Blood dribbled freely from both the cut on his cheek and out of the corner of his mouth.

His grey eyes never leaving his adversary, Stinger sidestepped over to the door and locked it. Continuing to hold the gun in his right hand, the pilot carefully stepped over to the toppled chair. Using his left hand he picked it up and set it upright. Next, he motioned with the gun for Spindler to sit in the chair. "Sit."

Stinger remained standing, the barrel of the gun not wavering for a second. "Now it's my turn to ask a few questions. Who are you and what do you want with me?"

Spindler glared angrily at the pilot, gripping the arm rests of the chair until his knuckles turned white.

"Answer the question!"

Spindler stared angrily for a few seconds longer before deciding that replying would be in his best interest. "My name really is Victor Spindler and I was sent by a third party to confirm that you were indeed the American pilot that crashed almost one week earlier."

"Who sent you?"

"I do not know," Spindler replied calmly. Almost instantly he was struck across the head with the butt of the pistol. Blood poured from the fresh gash on his scalp causing his straw-like hair to matt in ugly, scarlet ringlets.

"Wrong answer," Stinger hissed. "Try again."

"I…received an unaddressed envelope with information regarding your possible whereabouts. It instructed me to come here and interrogate 'Private Radek' and determine if he was indeed the American." A sly grin creased his bloody lips. "It appears my benefactor was correct."

"Your benefactor?" Stinger echoed.

"Yes. If the lead was proved correct, I was to arrest you and turn you over to one of the security drones in the city. Upon your delivery, I was to be rewarded handsomely."

"Your benefactor wouldn't have happened to have been a man named Doom, now would he?" Stinger asked, his eyes turning into hardened granite.

The name 'Doom' definitely had an effect, for Spindler turned as pale as a specter. His blue eyes widened with shock and with fear. It was the first time the polished intelligence agent had lost his composure. "I…I…wouldn't know," he stuttered finally.

Stinger saw his opportunity and pounced on it like a coyote on a mouse. He grabbed the front of Spindler's suit in his left hand and jammed the pistol barrel into other man's jaw. "Tell me what you know of Doom, or so help me I will splatter your brains across this hospital room!" he growled under his breath, his voice dangerously hushed.

Spindler sputtered and gasped like a fish out of water. There was no doubt in his mind that this crazy American would follow through on his word. This man was supposed to have been seriously injured, not well enough to turn the tables on him! Those grey eyes were as hard as steel and seemed to have sparks leaping out from their depths. The grip on his shirt front tightened threateningly and the barrel pressed harder against his jaw. He nervously licked the blood from his lips as he tried to formulate a comprehensible response. "Victor Von Doom is the supreme hierarch of Latveria. Nothing happens in his country without his knowledge. We as citizens live peacefully under his rule and dare not question his methods of leadership."

"Peaceful my ass!" Stinger spat mockingly. "Your damn leader shot me out of the sky when I was hardly near Latverian airspace! And all we were trying to do was keep the damn Decepticons from stealing Symkeria's energy resources. Do you know how many of my squadmates died that day!? You call that peaceful!?"

"The Decepticons were a threat to our country! It is unfortunate that you and your fellow allies were caught in the crossfire!" Spindler said, doing his best to lean away from the manic pilot.

"Bullshit! Do I look like I was born yesterday?" He shoved his hand back into Spindler's chest nearly causing the agent to topple over backwards in his chair. Stinger still held the gun level with the agent's head. It was time to get down to business. He calmly asked, "Where is Skywarp?"

"Who?" the agent asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Skywarp! The giant, purple and black Decepticon you creeps captured at D-Base Four! Where the hell is he!? Where has Doom taken him?"

Before Spindler could answer, a powerful crash sounded against the locked door nearly breaking it from the lock. Stinger glanced distractedly at the door; it would prove to be a mistake. Spindler leaped from the chair and tackled the pilot to the ground, snarling like a mad dog. Stinger heard his breath leave his lungs with a great "ummph!". He temporarily saw stars as the back of his head cracked against the tile flooring, but the pugnacious pilot couldn't succumb to the pain now. Spindler wrapped his spidery fingers around Stinger's own hands, trying to wrest the gun from the pilot. The two men rolled across the floor grunting and straining, each trying to over-power the other. For a skinny, piece of nothing, Victor Spindler was proving himself to be a wiry and obstinate opponent. Both men were oblivious to the pounding continuing on the door, each bang weakening the barrier more and more. Stinger and Spindler continued to thrash across the room until they banged against the wall with the window. Spindler brought his face down close to Stinger; his beady blue eyes were bright with anger. "You will die along with your robotic friend, American filth!" he whispered sinisterly.

"Not today, jackass!" Stinger said through gritted teeth. He threw his head back and then violently forward, head-butting the intelligence agent square in the middle of his face. Spindler screamed in agony as blood gushed from a broken nose. He instinctively reached up with both hands to stem the flow, relinquishing his grip on the pistol. He floundered off of the pilot, giving Stinger the one opportunity he had been waiting for. The pilot leaped to his feet and rushed for the bed, firing several shots into the door as he did so. The pounding on the other side stopped abruptly and a flourish of Latverian cursing ensued; obviously whoever was trying to break-in was now having second thoughts. The pilot grabbed his affects, jammed the coms wafer into his pants pocket, and leaped for the door, pistols in both hands.

A security guard held his thigh in both hands as red blood flowed freely between his fingers. He barely gave the escaping American a glance as Stinger dashed down the brightly lit corridor. Sweat dripped freely from his brow and gave his upper body a wet sheen. He needed to get out of this place and fast! Ducking round the corner, he entered another long corridor but stopped abruptly as two large, dark grey machines entered from the other end. They looked almost identical to the drones he and Skywarp had faced, but were on a miniature scale, standing no more than eight feet tall at the most. A large, yellow single optic dominated the "face" and like their larger counterparts, they were armed to the teeth.

"Halt!" one called in a toneless, computerized voice.

"Like hell!" Stinger muttered under his as he turned and dashed back the way he had come. Just as he turned the corner, he felt his back get peppered with flying bits of plaster and wood as a white hot plasma bolt struck the wall. "Shit! Don't these things give a damn about the civilians!?" he stated out loud to himself, dodging hysterical hospital workers and frantic patients in an effort to find an escape. He could hear the heavy metallic footsteps of the drones picking up the pursuit. Abruptly ahead of him, several human security guards appeared at the end of the hallway, blocking his escape once again.

He slid to a halt, effectively boxed in by the drones to his rear and the guards to his fore. _Shit! Shit! SHIT! _He cursed mentally. He really didn't want to get into a shoot-out in a hospital, but his options were suddenly very limited. _I tried Warp, I tried buddy, _he thought, preparing to make his last stand. If the guards didn't shoot him first, the drones certainly would; he raised both pistols to shoulder level and pointed one down each hallway. He braced his body for the impacts that were sure to come. Footsteps and shouts were rushing towards him from both directions.

Suddenly, not five feet to the right of his person, a door slammed open. A flash of red hair caught the corridor lights as a familiar petite nurse beckoned him with one hand. "American! Come quickly! I will help you!"

Shock and relief flashed across Stinger's features as he dashed for the opening. He darted past the nurse and into a small, unused patient's room. Behind him he heard the young nurse lock the door and shove a chair under the handle. She turned around quickly, blue eyes wide with fear and…rebellion? "Quickly! You have not much time! It will not hold the drones." She rushed over to the window and yanked it open and then flipped the bedcovers back to reveal a coil of rope that had already been tied to the bedrails.

Stinger stared in astonishment. This was the last thing he had expected! "C-Carla!? What the…? Why in the hell are you helping me!? Not that I don't appreciate it, but…but…" he trailed off as she placed a slender finger against his lips.

"Don't talk. Just listen. I _hate_ my country! Doom is nothing but a tyrant, a monster deceived by illusions of grandeur. Most of my people accept his rule because they have no choice or believe him to be a great man. I know different. I suspected you were the American everyone is talking about when I saw your scar," she said, tracing a light fingertip across his left cheek. "I treated an actual survivor who described a man with such a mark, a man and a machine who were attempting to stop Doom's plans of war." She began to drag him over to the window and tossed the rope out and over the sill. "Go. I will follow!"

He obeyed without hesitation, shimmying down the rope as quickly as possible. The nurse, Carla, followed suit and landed lightly next to him. In the room above, both of the escapees heard the sounds of the door splintering open, shouts of angry men flowing from the open window. She grabbed his arm and began to steer him down a narrow alley. "But why are you helping me and what do you know of Doom?" Stinger asked again while following her figure.

"Although many of my people will follow Doom, there are some of us who resist. Doom had my father killed when he was caught trying to take me and my mother out of the country. I have hated Doom ever since," she said bitterly, turning her head to look at the pilot. "Since then I have joined the resistance and used my position in the hospital to glean information from the soldiers as well as to help those innocents injured by the drones."

"Damn!" was all Stinger could say. She glanced back at him again as they ran down another alley. A very small smile touched her thin lips.

"We consider any enemy of Doom, a friend to the Luptãtorii de Libertate."

They stopped about midway down another alley. Both of them were breathing hard from the run, but for the time being they had a moment to stop and rest. She faced him once more and gripped his muscular biceps in her small hands. They barely encompassed a quarter of his arm, but her grip remained firm. "Doom wants you alive. It is why you are still here. You are a threat, but he is fascinated by your resourcefulness. I do not know why he has your large, winged friend, but I do know he is being held in the castle." She looked away from him for a moment before slowly stepping away. "I must leave you now. Take these," she said. From inside a large pocket in her nurse's coat, she handed him a tied bundle of fresh, clean clothes.

"I can't thank you enough for what you've done," he replied softly, taking the bundle. His eyes were moist from tears of gratitude. "How can I ever repay you?"

She smiled that shy smile of hers; blue eyes alight with the fire of rebellion. "Avenge my father."

She turned to walk down the alley, but he caught her arm. "Will I ever see you again?" he asked, staring into her blue depths.

"Perhaps, American. Perhaps."

"Stinger. My name is Stinger. Well, actually it's Lt. Don Kesinger. But if you ever happen to make it out of this hellhole, myself included, look me up in the 'States. You'll always have a place to stay there; I'll guarantee it."

She smiled once more. "Stinger. I shall remember it."

He released her arm and watched as she quickly disappeared into the murky depths of the alleys, her footsteps fading into the distance. He sighed and silently thanked God for once again looking after his safety. He quickly changed into the clothes, discarding the old, tattered pants into a garbage bin. He now wore a deep burgundy, button-up work shirt. The long sleeves fit tightly across his arms, but they weren't to the point of constrictive. His pants were khaki in color with a narrow blue stripe running the length of the legs. Like the military pants he had on earlier, these had a traditional button front as well.

He fingered the wafer in his pocket and debated about whether or not to contact Starscream. His enemies might be able to trace the signal, but on the other hand he was a sitting goose being trapped behind the walls of the city. His scar had already proven to be a real eye-catcher around here. He stroked the prickly stubble that was beginning to darken his lower face. Decisions. Decisions.

"Skywarp's trapped in that castle and there is no way I'm gonna be able to get in there by myself," he mused. "Might as well call in the cavalry."

He depressed the button and spoke smoothly into the tiny device. "Stinger to Screechy. Could you repeat those directions again?"

* * *

_Rebooting Audio Sensors._

_Rebooting Optical Sensors._

_CPU Online…_

Black void slowly fizzled into a staticy blur of dull color. Slowly the mass of greys and blacks began to take on texture and volume. He began to decipher each of the individual stones that composed a large, solid wall. Things were slowly taking on detail.

He hurt. It felt as if there wasn't a part of him that wasn't damaged in some degree. One optic was spiderwebbed with cracks and every single warning light he had in his HUD blinked red or orange. Every circuit felt as if it were at capacity with amperage. Whenever he tried to flex his joints, they creaked loudly in protest; the necessary fluid needed to keep them lubricated blocked by dirt and grime or just plain severed.

"Ah, good. You are awake now," a familiar voice spoke next to his audios. "Doom had hoped you would be awake to witness his greatness."

Skywarp turned his head to glare at the green-cloaked, metallic figure next to him. "I'm going to turn you into a great paperweight once I'm free!" he snarled threateningly.

The green eyes behind the faceplate seemed to smile with mirth. "Freedom is such an expensive commodity, Skywarp. It always comes with a price. Are you sure you can afford it?"

"Just wait. You just wait Rivetface!" Skywarp continued to growl struggling against the chains.

"Try not to struggle too much. It took much time for Doom and his drones to insert the life support cables within your metal body," Dr. Doom cautioned the teleport.

"Life-support!? What the slag!" Skywarp exclaimed, shock and disgust flashing across his beaten faceplates. "What in the Pit did you do to me!?"

"Calm yourself, my Decepticon friend. It was my wish for you to be conscious of what I'm about to show you," Doom said, turning around abruptly and striding up to a large console. A massive screen dominated the wall above the control panel; currently it showed a panoramic view of the city. "Your own mechanical systems could not support your normal functions due to the extreme amount of damage you have sustained. To alleviate the problem, I designed a special grid of my own to support your vital functions. Without it your functions will shut down in less than 24 hours."

"That would be more than enough time to turn you into nice, mushy puddle!" Skywarp spat.

Doom chose to ignore the threat and turned back around to face the Decepticon. "You will be very pleased to hear that a dear friend of yours is indeed alive and well."

"Stinger!? No! I mean…yes! I knew that pathetic glitch mouse was too stubborn to die!" Skywarp exclaimed, glancing up at the monitor as if the pilot himself would be there to greet him on screen.

"Although your terminology is crude, it is accurate. Your American friend has proven himself to be quite irritating to Doom. Doom has decided to attend to this problem himself," the Latverian warlord, said softly. He pressed a button on the panel and the picture instantly changed to an image of a burgundy-clad figure slowly walking through a crowd of people. Although the clothing was different, Skywarp instantly recognized the pilot. "And you my dear Skywarp, will bear witness to Doom defeating your ally!"

If Skywarp had been human, all the color would have drained from his face, but as it was he let his optics show his emotion for him. They flashed brightly in the darkened room, reflecting off of Doom's armor like red lightning bolts.

"Doom, if you kill him, I swear by Primus himself, that not even the damned germs on this mudball will be able to find a scrap of your organic body!" Skywarp raged. With renewed vigor, he began to fight his bonds. The thought of losing a friend to this afthole energized his will to fight.

Suddenly a vicious electric shock jolted through his body. The Seeker howled in pain as the electricity renewed old hurts and begat all new ones. After a couple of agonizing minutes, the torture ceased. Doom stepped away from the console and approached the bound jet. Skywarp was breathing heavily through his intakes and his cooling fans were humming madly to try and chill his overheated circuits. Doom's laugh was filled with cruelty as he made his reply, "Who said I was going to kill him?"

* * *

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed this chappy! Things are getting tight for Stinger and Warp. Just a note, Luptãturii de Libertate is Romanian. It roughly translates as Freedom Fighters in English. CO is an abbreviation for Commanding Officer. So just how are Screamer and TC gonna break Warp out of there? Stay tuned for more! Please R&R!**


	13. SOS

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* * *

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A/N: Well here it is ya'll, Ch. 13—Finally! It's late, I'm tired and it's a school night, but hey, fanfiction is my stress relief. :) Forgive any spelling errors or missing words; I proof-read, but like I said it's late and I could use a drink. Also, just a little warning--there is a little more cursing than usual; however, you'll never see the f-word in my stories. Enjoy!

**Chapter 13: SOS**

Stinger moved brusquely through the milling crowds that were beginning to clog the early morning streets of Doomstadt. He needed to get near the walls of the city and get there quickly. He had been unable to reach Starscream on the communicator and that worried him. Either Starscream was ignoring him (which he hoped was the case) or something in the city was blocking the transmission. Either scenario left him with the same result—entrapment. He quickly worked his way through the throng, bumping into someone here or shoving past another there. The hair on the back of his neck was beginning to prickle, his pilot's sixth sense telling him something was about to happen and soon.

A narrow alley opened out onto the main street and he quickly ducked into its welcoming shadows. He leaned up against the brick wall of one of the buildings taking a short respite. So far, so good. He'd not seen any more security drones since leaving the hospital, but that didn't mean they weren't still looking for him. Those damn drones may not have had a gig of processing power to their mainframe, but they were persistent devils.

As he stood there trying to catch his breath, the crowd in the street began to thrum excitedly. Loud, murmuring voices piqued his curiosity. He saw people pointing down the street, back the way he had come. Something was happening. Dreaded curiosity getting the better of his judgment, Stinger risked a peek around the corner of the building—he almost wished he hadn't. Down the main street not a hundred yards from his current position were three security drones sweeping the crowd. Most of the people just stepped from their path; to them, the drones were as familiar to them as police officers in other countries. The drones would pause every few feet and question a civilian, show them a holographic image and then move on. Stinger didn't need to play 20 questions to know exactly what that image was about.

_Shit! I knew it was too good to be true!_

Stinger took a quick glance down the alley—dead end. His only other option was to make a break for it. _If I ever get out of this damn country alive, I should blow every PT test from here after clear out of the water!_ He thought with irony. He took a deep breath in order to calm his nerves and focus his mind. _Panicking kills pilots, _he reminded himself. _There may still be a chance I can slip into the crowd unnoticed._ It was worth a shot; after all, he had made it this far without notice. _Here goes nothin'!_

He waited for a small gap to open in the crowd and then slipped into the mass of milling bodies. For about a hundred feet his plan worked flawlessly; there were so many people pushing against each other trying to get to various destinations, that Stinger was lost in the ensuing chaos. But as he worked his way away from the drones, the crowd began to thin leaving him more and more open to the drone's biological scanning rays. Then quite unexpectedly, he heard a male voice shout, "There he is! There's the fugitive in that red shirt!"

Stinger froze like a deer caught in the beams of a semi-truck. Several dozen pairs of fearful eyes turned to stare at him. He looked hastily over his shoulder and met the unwaverable gaze of a yellow optic. His eyes then met several others in the crowd—none of them were friendly. Suddenly, the drone's monotone broke the tense moment between fugitive and civilians.

"Halt!"

Instantly, he broke into a sprint and dashed down the street. "Not today, Bolt-breath!" Stinger called over his shoulder. His booted feet pounded the aged concrete; blood and adrenaline raced through his veins and culminated into streams of sweat pouring down his face and upper body. Dark patches of moisture began to darken the burgundy shirt under his arms and down his lower back. The damp shirt clung to his body just like the fear that was clutching his heart at that moment. He shoved and plowed through the crowd like an enraged bull, desperation fueling every muscle in his body.

The pilot dashed to the end of the street and then cut to the right. Behind him he could hear the furious metallic banging that indicated the pursuing drones. They had one objective and one objective only—capture the foreigner at any costs. Stinger now knew how a rabbit felt when it was being pursued by his Beagles when he was a boy. The bitter irony of his position just made the pilot more determined to be the one that got away.

The concrete ended and cobbled stones took its place, making his dash for freedom a little more difficult over the rougher surface. He glanced over his shoulder to see the grey mass of the drones quickly gaining on him, those yellow optics glowing ominously. He faced back forward and nearly tripped over himself as two more drones appeared up ahead, blocking his trajectory. The ends of their plasma rifle glowed a golden greeting.

"Damn it!" He cursed loudly, skidding to a halt before dashing down a side street on his left. His lungs burned painfully in the brisk, winter air. They screamed for relief and made the pilot feel as if at any second they would burst from capacity. Drawing the wafer from a pocket he began yelling into the device, "Starscream, where the hell are you guys!? I need back-up ASAP!" Static crackled loudly in return. He cursed profusely; nothing was going right.

Suddenly a flourish of dust accompanied by a loud explosion ripped through the buildings just ahead and to his left. Stinger dove to the right and rolled with his own momentum, covering his head and neck with his arms as he tumbled across the cobbled street. When he came to a stop, he peered through the grit and debris only to see three more malignant, yellow optics floating towards him.

"Awe hell!" he groaned before stumbling to his feet and resuming his mad dash. "I swear these things must be related to the Energizer Bunny or something!" A narrow alley on his right gave the pilot a quick means of evasion. He sprinted down the dark passageway, leaping overturned trashcans like an Olympic runner clearing the hurdles. Bright sunlight engulfed him once more as he exploded out of the alleyway and into the city's center square.

"Halt! Fleeing is not an option!" the ominous computer-voice called loudly.

Stinger slid to a halt and stared with wide frightened eyes at the scenario surrounding him. All around him-- to his twelve, his nine, his three, and six o'clock, security drones closed in around him. They had him trapped and they had him surrounded. He cursed himself for being a fool. The drones had herded him into the city's center like a steer to the slaughter. Obviously, the city was laid out in a circular pattern, with the streets and alleys converging into the center like the spokes of a wagon wheel. He had run straight into a trap!

He was breathing heavily, his breath appearing in large, vapor clouds around his damp, chocolate-colored hair. Even his skin was steaming slightly from the exertion of running. For Stinger it was déjà vu, only instead of Skywarp being surrounded and taken by the enemy, it was his turn and unfortunately there wasn't a red or blue jet in sight to come to his rescue. The castle loomed in the background, as the drones began to close in, circling him tightly just as the larger drones had done to Skywarp.

"_How could I have been so stupid!" _he thought bitterly, glowering at the drones with stormy grey eyes. "_Well, I'm not going down without a fight, not after this!" _He pulled the pistols from his belt line, barrels pointed skyward. "Come on you Pit-spawned, walking trashcans!" he yelled angrily, totally unconscious of his borrowing on Skywarp's lingo. "Kill me, damn it!"

"That will be quite unnecessary, Lt. Kesinger," a suave human voice spoke from somewhere beyond the ring of drones.

Stinger whirled completely around, trying to determine the origin of the voice. The hum of the drones' weaponry filled the brief silence. "Who the hell said that!?" Stinger challenged. "Show yourself, damn it!"

"Calm yourself, Lieutenant. There is no need for aggression at this time. I've been waiting to meet with you. You've been, how should I say this, difficult to reach, yes?"

Slowly, the drones to Stinger's left parted revealing a small gap. From outside the deadly circle a dark silhouette began to approach the pilot. Warily, Stinger brought the pistols to bear on the figure; fear, anger and uncertainty clouding his judgment. Suddenly a bright, blue-white glow emanated from the mysterious figure. The pistols in his hand vibrated violently before being wrenched from his grip. They flew across the opening and were caught in a large metal gauntlet. As the figure stepped from the shadows of the drones, Stinger stared in awe at the green-clad stranger before him.

This person appeared to be fully armored, similar to the knights of medieval times, the only difference being instead of a helmet, this guy wore a strange metal mask with a deep, forest green hood. Piercing green eyes shone from underneath the mask, matching the color of his cloak and tunic perfectly. Two large circular, gold clasps connected by a gold-colored rope attached the cloak to his shoulders. A simple, large-buckled black leather belt completed the strange outfit. All in all, this person was unlike anyone Stinger had seen before.

"Allow me to introduce myself, lieutenant. I am Dr. Doom, ruler of Latveria. I believe you wanted to meet me," Doom said easily, bowing before the pilot.

"You!? You're Doom!? You're the one responsible for all this!?" Stinger said incredulously, gesticulating wildly to all the drones.

"Yes, Doom is. It is quite marvelous, isn't it?" he replied, a tinge of smugness in his tone as he placed a hand over his chest. "But I digress; we can discuss my machinations inside. You have had quite an interesting escapade over the past week and I am sure you desire some respite. Come and have dinner with me and I will tell you of my future plans for Latveria and the world," Doom offered, motioning with his hand for Stinger to follow.

Stinger couldn't believe his ears. Here he was being offered a dinner invitation by the very same man who had been attempting to kill him and Skywarp for days! Briefly, he recalled what Carla had said of Doom admiring him, but still this conversation defied all logic. "You're insane! I ain't gonna sit down to some dinner party with the psycho whose been trying to kill me and my ally!" Stinger shouted heatedly. He balled his fists tightly to his side; he tensed every muscle in preparation for any kind of retaliation.

"Oh, how rude of me!" the doctor exclaimed. "I forgot to mention that there is someone else who wishes to see you, Lt. Kesinger. It would be very disrespectful of you to not accept my offer. Your friend would be very disappointed should you decide not to attend."

It took a few seconds for Stinger's adrenaline-pumped brain to absorb just what Doom had said. When it finally did strike home, his eyes widened and then darted to the castle, recollection hitting him like a semi. "Skywarp!" he whispered on stricken lips.

Even from a distance, Stinger could see the green eyes smiling behind the mask. "Yes, Lt. Kesinger. You're dear friend, Skywarp, will be pleased to see you again. Now, do you accept Doom's offer?"

Stinger knew he could very well be attending his own funeral dinner should he accept Doom's invitation, but it was either that or stay here and become Kentucky Fried Kesinger by the drones. Doom had him cornered and they both knew it. The man was a brilliant strategist and Stinger had played right into his hands. He and Skywarp should have jetted from this cursed country the moment they wrecked that base; at least neither of them would have been prisoners. Lowering his head in defeat, his grey eyes losing their stormy fervor, he gave his dejected reply, "All right, Doom, you win."

* * *

The long walk into the castle felt like an eternity for the defeated pilot. Doom had insisted that he walk beside him, unfettered, but that only seemed to add to Stinger's humiliation. All but two of the security drones had been called off, those remaining bringing up the rear of the small party. Stinger ignored the elegant tapestries adorning the castle's corridors; he just couldn't bring himself to look at anything other than the next five feet in front of him. His walk of shame continued, the silence suffocating. Finally, Doom stopped at a large pair of sliding metal doors. He tapped a brief code into the entry pad and watched as the doors hissed open. The room on the other side was dark, but at Doom's command, brightened, revealing the prisoner within.

Stinger inhaled sharply as the mutilated form of Skywarp lay before him chained to the floor. Large dents and deep gashes marred the violet and black metal. Small collections of rust had begun to form on some of the sharper edges. Dried fluids left ugly, brown residue on the once gleaming armor. One leg was badly damaged, it resembled a mangled pile of scrap metal more than a limb. Skywarp's wings were practically nonexistent; charred stubs were all that remained. Skywarp's grey chest plating was covered in dirt, fluid and burns as well. It was a wonder that the teleport was even on-line at all. Stinger had never seen anything damaged to this extent.

"I will leave the two of you alone," Doom said. "When you are finished conversing, press this button here," he said, indicating a small green button on a panel next to the door. "One of my drones will escort you to the dining hall when you are finished. Oh, and Lieutenant, I would not recommend touching the control panels; their automated defense system will give you quite a shock." With a swirl of his cape, the dictator turned and left, the sound of the giant metal doors closing resoundingly behind him. Almost reluctantly, Stinger walked over to his friend's hand. Robot he might be, but friend he was and the sight of Skywarp's grisly wounds were almost enough to send Stinger into a fit of dry heaving.

"Skywarp?" he croaked harshly, trying to stem the flood of emotions threatening to burst from within. It was his entire fault. It was all his fault that Skywarp was in the condition he was, his fault for their capture and probably soon-to-be death.

A loud creak indicated the Seeker's consciousness. Stinger watched as the helmeted head slowly scraped in his direction. "Stin…ger?" came the static-filled reply.

Stinger hastened to stand beside Skywarp's shoulder vents. "Hey partner," he replied quietly, laying a hand on the battered metal. It was cool to the touch, not warm like it would normally be. Stinger had conducted enough repairs on the jet to know firsthand.

"So, they got…you too," Skywarp said, a faint touch of his old humor tinting the strained words.

Stinger snorted to himself. "Yeah, they did," he replied, his eyes taking in the extensive damage dealt to the Con; they didn't miss the rat's nest of wires connected into Skywarp's body either. "My God, Skywarp. You look like they ran you through a metal shredder," the pilot whispered softly.

Skywarp huffed, although it sounded more like static interference. "I've been in…worse shape, squish." A faint smirk appeared on his lip components. He slowly eased his helm back until it rested against the floor, the one functioning optic staring blandly at the ceiling.

"What's he done to you, Warp? What's Doom done to you?" Stinger whispered fiercely. Even if Doom did have the room bugged, he could have cared less. He had already gotten the impression that Doom was an arrogant bastard and probably wouldn't care if he did interrogate Skywarp. Hell, leaving him alone in the room with the Decepticon was proof enough of Doom's superciliousness.

"Nothin' yet," came the raspy reply.

"What the hell is that suppose to mean? What are all these damn wires for?"

Skywarp gave a shuddering, resignated sigh. "He wants my warp field generator and he wants you to watch as he removes it while I'm still on-line."

"What!? You've got to be kidding me! Skywarp, for the love of Mary, please tell me this one of your sick ideas of a joke," Stinger hissed. Revulsion and anger filled the pilot's body, causing him to shake violently. Doom was even more twisted than he first thought.

"Do I look like I'm…in the mood….to joke!? He's told me everything, Stinger. The human…has it planned down to tiniest micro-particle. He's gonna take my warp generator, copy it and put it into those…Pit-spawned scrapheaps. With that kind of power…."

"…He could take over the world," Stinger finished Skywarp's sentence for him.

"Yeah, and he wants you to watch. Couldn't kill ya quietly so he changed tactics…brought ya here. Thing of it is…Stinger…if he takes my warp generator, he sends me to the Pit for sure."

Stinger gave Skywarp a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"My warp generator is directly linked to my…spark. If he removes the generator, he extinguishes my spark. I'm terminated. History. No more Skywarp."

Skywarp's words hung in the air like a thick, suffocating cloud. A long silence fell between the two allies. Finally, Stinger exploded. "SON OF A BITCH, DAMN THE BASTARD TO HELL," he bellowed at the top of his lungs. The pilot fell to his knees and gripped his head, body shaking with anger and despair.

"Hey, take it easy on the audios small fry," Skywarp said, half-humorously.

"What a sick son of a bitch," Stinger repeated, although much more quietly. "I won't let that happen to you, Skywarp," he vowed fiercely, "not so long as their's a breath in my body. I've gotta get in touch with Starscream and Thundercracker."

"Good luck," Skywarp snorted painfully.

"Damn it, Skywarp! I got you into this mess and I'm gonna get you out! Doom may have all electronic communications blocked, but he can't block _everything. _I've got an idea," Stinger said, standing to his feet. The pilot pulled the wafer from his pocket and looked it over briefly before replacing it. Next, he walked briskly back over to the doors and pressed the button.

"And just what do you plan on doing, squish? Insult the guy to death? Believe me, I've tried it; it doesn't work!"

"Just hang tight, partner," Stinger said as the doors slowly opened. "As we like to say back home, 'it ain't over until the fat lady sings!'" With that the pilot stepped through the doorway and disappeared from sight, leaving Skywarp alone in the room once again.

"Like I have anything…better to do," the teleport muttered to himself. Still, his processor was humming madly in an effort to try and figure out the wily pilot's plan.

* * *

Dinner with Doom began as a solemn affair. Stinger just didn't feel up to having a pleasant conversation with a man who was planning on killing a good friend and possibly himself. At first he picked at his food like a sulking child trapped at the dinner table. The pilot's morose manner did not escape his dinner host.

"Surely this cuisine is not that abominable to you," Doom spoke, breaking the lengthy silence that had prevailed over the large dining room. The beautiful oak table was laden with roasted pork, candied yams, greens, roast potatoes, and several other dishes that Stinger was unfamiliar with. "I assure you, nothing has been given to you to lower your defenses or harm you in any way."

Stinger looked up from his plate and glared at the metal man sitting at the head of the table. His eyes flashed with anger and he slammed his fist down onto the table. "Forgive me, _doctor,_ for not being able to enjoy this generous fare you've set before me. I've always found it rather difficult to eat when one of my good friends is _barely living_." Each word was laced with biting sarcasm.

Doom merely laced his fingers together and rested his elbows on the table's edge. He tactfully ignored the scathing comment. "Tell me about yourself, Lieutenant. What made you decide to become a pilot?"

Stinger's scowl darkened. He placed both hands flat on the table and stood so quickly his chair fell over backwards with a reverberating _crack!_ "Enough with the small talk Doom! Just what in the hell do you think you're tryin' to pull!? You don't think I know what you're planning? Skywarp filled me in and I have to say you're one sick bastard." He paused trying to gauge Doom's reaction to his outburst. When not so much as an eyelid blinked, Stinger continued his interrogation in a slightly more hushed tone. "What's the deal Doom? Why do this, huh? Why start another world war? Do you realize the consequences you'll be facing when the other Decepticons find out what you did to Skywarp?"

Doom continued to meet Stinger's fiery, grey gaze. A full twenty seconds passed before he motioned for Stinger to sit. "Sit down, please Lieutenant."

Stinger glared a few seconds more before he reached down behind himself, righted his chair and then retook his seat. Doom then rose and began to slowly pace around the table, his heavy, metallic footsteps filling the room with an unsettling cadence. "I don't suppose you could understand what I'm about to do for the world, Lt. Kesinger, seeing as how you come from a country that thrives on war. But Latveria…Latveria thrives on order and peace..._Doom's order_ and _Doom's peace_," he emphasized, "My country has no crime, lieutenant. My people live peacefully under the protection of my Doombots. They know any violators will be punished severely. Now take your country for example. High crime, shootings, bribery, graft all these things show the fallibility of humanity, of human law enforcement. The only way to live in a peaceful world is for Doom to guide it into peace, as Doom has done for his own country. But the arrival of certain extraterrestrial visitors has complicated my plans." He paused and continued to walk the length of the large dining hall. Several seconds of tense silence filled the room before Doom spoke again. "So, in order to defeat your enemy you must know your enemy and what better way of knowing your enemy than observing them from next door."

"Symkeria?" Stinger questioned, doubt and disbelief permeating his voice. "It was a set-up wasn't it?"

"Indeed it was, Lieutenant. At that point, I had already devised several weapons that were more than capable of dispatching any alien threat, but as I observed our alien intruders, I saw one that possessed a technology I have not yet been able to replicate—instant teleportation."

"So you shot him down," Stinger growled, almost under his breath. His brows were hooded and deep, furrowing creases lined his forehead.

"You are an intelligent man, Lieutenant Kesinger," Doom replied, pausing momentarily in his pacing.

"So why shoot me down? Why not just shoot Skywarp and leave me out of it?"

For the first time since the pilot had met Doom, he saw the man's eyes narrow behind the mask. "Your involvement was an unfortunate occurrence. I had not anticipated on a coalition strike against the Decepticons. Your skills as a military aviator were both your saving grace and your downfall. As you know, most surface-to-air missiles are of the heat seeking variant. I can only surmise that you were traveling too close to my target and caught the after-effects of my launch."

"Son of a bitch," Stinger mumbled under his breath. So, it had been a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"But what is done is done and now that you are here, alive and well might I add, I am prepared to offer you a proposition."

"What might that be? And I won't guarantee my answer will be favorable," Stinger said, leaning back into the chair and crossing his arms over his chest; the pilot's snarky attitude and the pose he struck resembled Starscream so much it seemed uncanny.

"Doom is prepared to offer you unconditional citizenship in Latveria and eventually his new world order. All crimes will be suspended and you can live in peace like the rest of my people. Should you choose to decline my generous offer, you will leave me no choice but to incarcerate you and have you tried for war crimes against Latveria."

_Huh, this coming from the guy who shot me down, unprovoked, in the first place. Yeah, fat chance Doom! But I'll play along. I need time to contact Screamer and Thundercracker and fill them in on all these juicy details._ Stinger lowered his gaze and softened his features. By all pretenses, he gave the appearance of a man consumed by deep thought. He studied the fine grains in the wood on the table for several long seconds. He noticed that Doom had stopped his pacing and stood before him, just on the other side of the table; he was patiently waiting for Stinger's answer. Finally, Doom broke the silence with his charismatic, baritone voice.

"I see that you may need some time to think over my proposition. Please, finish your meal, Lieutenant. When you are done, one of my security drones will escort you to your quarters. If you'll excuse me now, I must take my leave of you in preparation for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Stinger feigned ignorance.

"Yes, Lieutenant Kesinger. Tomorrow you shall bear witness to the birth of a new world order—Doom's order. Good night." With those parting words, the doctor turned abruptly on his heel and left the room, exiting via a large, sliding metal door. A resounding metallic clang indicated the closing of the door. Once again, Stinger was enveloped in silence.

Resolutely, Stinger picked his silverware back up, fork in his left, knife in his right. With slow deliberation, he cut a generous piece of roasted pork and brought it to his mouth. It had been so long since he had had a decent meal. He chewed the pork slowly, savoring its delectable juices. And so Stinger continued to finish his meal in this fashion. God only knew when his next decent meal would occur, if it would occur.

* * *

_**Later that night…**_

A deep, velvety blackness cloaked the surrounding countryside. Hidden safely inside a large stone barn two large, winged alien beings rested somewhat fitfully against the stone's cool, protective surface. Thundercracker drifted in and out of recharge. He just couldn't slow the rampaging thoughts coursing through his processor. Was Warp still online? How badly injured was he? Would he and Starscream be able to reach him in time? And what of the human? Had he been captured? Or worse, terminated? These questions and more raced through his central CPU faster than a turbo fox chasing a cyber rabbit.

It wasn't too long after that, Thundercracker became aware of a very persistent, but intermittent sound irritating his audio sensors. At first he thought his sensors were malfunctioning, but after he ran a diagnostic and everything checked out all right, he realized the sound was external in nature.

Now a little aggravated, he slowly on-lined his optics until they glowed a deep, burning crimson, illuminating the interior of the dilapidated barn with an angry glow. He listened intently to the noise, trying to decipher its source. His optics slowly drifted across the barn before they finally came to rest on Starscream's restless body.

The red and white Seeker twitched and jerked agitatedly in a restless recharge state. It was an indication that most of Starscream's main systems were in self-repair and defragmentation, but his processor was running at full capacity. It was a quirk that all Seekers shared and only added to their image as flighty and edgy beings.

It was him. Starscream was the source of that fragging, Pit-spawned noise. His optics trailed down his Wing Commander's arm until they stopped on Starscream's partially closed hand. A minuscule, blinking green glow could be seen through Starscream's dormant fingers. It was then that Thundercracker realized a pattern to the light and the staticy noise. He had heard that pattern before; humans had used it when main communications were down or when they were in distress.

Three short bursts of static, followed by three longer bursts, and then once again the three shorter bursts.

Suddenly, with a bright flash of his optics it hit him—Morse Code, the humans referred to it as Morse Code! It was an SOS distress call!

"Starscream! Starscream, wake up you slagger!"

With a jolt, Starscream jerked awake, optics flashing to life. "What!? What is it!?"

"Your hand!" Thundercracker pointed, "In your hand—the communication wafer! We're receiving a message."

Starscream's optics dropped to his hand as he studied the wafer. He instantly picked up on the strange signal. "It's the pilot. That crazy glitch has figured out a way around the communications block. He's using the static caused by the block to transmit messages in Morse Code. Primus, why didn't I think of that!?"

"Probably because you hate human technology there Screamer," Thundercracker replied with a mischievous smirk.

Starscream shot him a murderous glare, but quickly directed his attention to answering the Code. A few seconds later a different pattern sounded from the communicator.

"It's the pilot all right," Starscream confirmed. He looked up and met Thundercracker's steady gaze. "But it appears things are worse than we first thought."

**A/N: Please let me know what you think. Press that good-lookin' button! You know ya wanna!**


	14. As the Storm Clouds Gather

**A/N: Whoa. Talk about a full platter! Sorry everyone for the long wait—Life caught up with me and gave me a stinging reality check. It's the last two weeks of college, graduation is fast approaching (FINALLY!), I've had firefighting training, Civil Air Patrol meetings, been building fences, and training my two youngest horses in preparation for becoming trail guide horses, oh, and let's not forget it's ramp season here in West Virginia (not sure what a ramp is? Wiki it; it's listed as **_**Allium tricoccum)**_**—in short, I've been just a tinsy, winsy busy! I'm hoping that with graduation, things will slow down and I'll have some time to concentrate on "important" stuff, like fanfic! XD I know it's a little shorter than usual, but take heart in knowing that future chapters will be quite "fast-paced." Please enjoy.**

**Chapter 14: As the Storm Clouds Gather**

"Are you sure this is going to work?" Thundercracker asked worriedly, doubt evident in his deep, rumbling voice. He watched Starscream through wary optics as the red Seeker lifted a white hot piece of iron up to his face, scowled, and then lowered it back down to the floor. Several loud clangs reverberated within the stone barn, as Starscream altered the shape of a long forgotten farmer's scythe.

"Nope."

Starscream's relatively simple answer only served to unnerve the blue jet even more. It was one thing to have a comrade make field repairs on broken equipment; it was quite another to have your comrade perform alterations on equipment that worked perfectly fine, especially when it was your most powerful weapon. It wasn't that he didn't trust Starscream; Pit, the red Seeker had been his wingmate for millions of vorns—trust wasn't an issue. It was the fact that this crazy idea was operating on theory and not principle and if it didn't work, then they would both take up permanent residence on the scrapheap.

Starscream scrutinized the scythe once more and finding it satisfactory, dumped the implement in a water trough. The tool hissed loudly as the cold spring water solidified the iron molecules; white steam wafted up into the air as the metal cooled. Once the scythe was cool, Starscream plucked it from the water and motioned for Thundercracker to lie down. The blue Seeker complied, although reluctantly and tried to focus his scarlet gaze on the ancient wooden rafters above. He heard a distinctive click as Starscream opened a panel just below the turbine fans that comprised part of his chest plating.

"I'm not going to lie to you, TC; this is a risky theory, one that I was never able to fully prove or disprove back on Cybertron, _BUT_ all of my prior evidence indicates that it should work, at least long enough to get us into the city and into a more favorable position of attack."

"Will I still be able to create full power sonic explosions?" the blue Seeker asked, raising his head slightly to gauge Starscream's reaction.

The red Eagle pursed his lip components in concentration as he began to split and sever several delicate wires in his blue hand. "Theoretically, yes, you will. In fact, if I'm able to reroute the power to your sonic shockwave manipulator correctly, you will be able to create more powerful explosions even more quickly than before."

Thundercracker just grunted in response and laid his helm back onto the dirt floor. Screamer's predictions helped alleviate some of the anxiety, but not all. He began to reflect on what Starscream had tried to explain to him earlier. The theory was something to this nature: by re-routing power from some of his less-than-critical systems, Starscream hoped to alternate his sonic shockwave manipulator to produce continual, low frequency sonic waves that would absorb and/or diffuse the Latverian military's radar detection waves, thus enabling the Seekers to achieve flight without being detected by drones or personnel. The field of protection would be small; Starscream would be forced to fly practically on top of him, but with their skill set, it wasn't an impossible maneuver. Starscream had also said that his sonic boom capability would be enhanced by this reroute. Now, this plan didn't safeguard against other methods of detection, such as thermal imaging or even the human eye, but complete undetection wasn't their goal. This would be a lightning strike operation—fly in, grab Warp, destroy the castle and book out before Doom knew what hit him. This plan would be heavily reliant on speed, timing and accuracy with the human coordinating everything. Radio or Com communication was strictly out; they would communicate this whole ordeal through Morse code. Primus, he hadn't performed a lightning strike since leaving Cybertron! Their brother squadron the Rainmakers, were the experts when it came to this particular type of Cybertronian aerial operation. He had no doubt whatsoever that _something _would go wrong; he didn't know what, but something definitely would—it always had before.

"Done," Starscream said, snapping the panel back into place. "Normally, I would suggest that you test my alterations before we engage in battle, but doing so would give our position away prematurely."

"Swell," Thundercracker grumbled, ensuring that the latch was indeed secure and rising to his feet. "So now what?"

"We wait," Starscream replied, tossing the modified knife/scythe to the side. He despised waiting as much as Thundercracker did, but they would be seeing some action all in due time. He walked to the barn's entrance and cast a wary optic through a crack between the door and the frame. The first few rays of color were beginning to lighten the sky. A slight rustling to his rear indicated that TC had joined him to watch the sunrise. For all of this organic planet's misery, the one thing Starscream did enjoy was the sunrises and sunsets. In all his travels as both a warrior and a scientist he had never seen as much diversity of color and texture that began and ended each day than here on this mudball. He watched as the colors of the sun intensified in depth and richness, between small, circular, patchy clouds. The humans referred to such cloud patterns as a "mackerel sky" for the clouds resemblance to the pattern of scales on a fish. The resemblance was crude, but sufficient. Fiery flames of red streaked between the "scales" and were highlighted with more intense smudges of orange and yellows. Darker patches of blue and purple were slowly giving way to the more intense, brighter colors of the coming day.

He heard Thundercracker rumble his processor much like a human clearing their throat to get someone's attention. Starscream cocked his audio receptor slightly to indicate he was listening.

"The humans have a saying," he began, but stopped for a brief moment. Starscream turned his head around and regarded his wingmate through slanted optics. There was something in Thundercracker's optics he had rarely seen in the blue Seeker, something that caused even him to shudder from within and yet simultaneously it set his spark afire with the flames of vengeance. "The humans say, 'red sky morning, all should take warning'. I can't think of better way to sum up this mission, can you?"

Starscream focused his gaze back on the sky. "No, I can't." He turned his head back around again and looked at Thundercracker out of the corner of his optic; that hardened, unmerciful edge was still present in his wingmate's ruby-lensed eyes. He allowed his characteristic smirk to pull at his lip components. "Let's ensure that we fulfill that prophecy, shall we?"

* * *

Stinger slowly stretched his muscles as he stepped out of bed. He raised his arms high above his head and relished the tingling sensation coursing through his triceps and down into his trapezoidal muscles. He hated to admit it, but it had felt absolutely divine sleeping in an actual bed. The fatigue of his ordeal was not eliminated, but it had been greatly relieved. He stepped over to a very ornate chair, grabbed his trousers and slipped them on in one easy motion. Next, he stepped into his boots. With the laces still untied, he shuffled to the bed and slid his hand under the mattress, pulling out both the knife and the communicator. He slipped the communicator into his pants pocket and then bent down and placed the knife into the back of his boot. Finally, he laced his boots with deftness, having performed this same function every morning for the past five years. His boots laced, Stinger stood and strode over to the large, arched window and watched as the sun set the sky on fire with its waking. Today was the day.

After a several long minutes of drinking in the new day, Stinger then turned his attention to the large wash basin that sat in the corner to the right of the large window. Gingerly, his fingers brushed the bandages that were still wrapped around his shoulder. The center of the cloth was a dingy, rusty brown, evidence of the wound having opened and bled during the course of yesterday's events. The pilot then reached into his boot and withdrew his knife, slicing the soiled bandages from his person. They fell to the stone floor in a heap and he kicked them off to one side with the toe of his boot. Surprisingly enough, a stack of fresh towels, a bottle of antiseptic and fresh bandages were all stacked neatly on the shelf under the basin. Stinger just shook his head; it appeared Doom left no stone unturned.

His grey eyes studied the injury within the mirror for the first time ever. It was a nasty piece of work, then again, any shrapnel wound was. It would leave a nice scar to add to his collection. All in all, the wound was about four inches wide by two inches long. The shrapnel had almost penetrated straight through his shoulder; a tiny opening could be seen just next to his scapula. The edges were jagged and still charred, but overall the puncture seemed to be healing nicely. It still hurt to move his arm and shoulders, but over the past couple of days he had learned very quickly to swallow pain in exchange for survival. He was lucky; a few more inches to the left and he would have been putting out applications for being Halloween's next headless horseman. For what it was worth, those two flying, metallic lawn darts had done a rather proficient job at cleaning the wound to begin with; all the hospital had done was slap some ointment on and wrapped his shoulder. If they had done nothing (as he expected) he would have bled out and died shortly after, or succumbed to the horrors of infection and/or hypothermia—neither scenario left a good taste in his mouth.

Seemed like he was on role with owing Decepticons his life, first Skywarp saved his ass and then his two wingmates. _I wonder what the US government would say if I told them I owed three Decepticons a life debt? I'm gonna have a tough time explaining myself to the squadron commander when and if I get back,_ he thought wryly to himself as he began to dress and re-bandage the lesion. If they were able to pull this hare-brained escape plan off, they would be forced to land at a military base of some sort—Warp's injuries were too severe to make it back to their (Con) headquarters in time and no other airport short of a military air base had the parts on hand for his repairs. _I sure as hell hope that we'll be able to make Lakenheath!_ After all, England was a long, _long _ways away.

A knock on the door drew his attention from bandaging his wound. "Yes?" he called, quickly finishing his work, walking back over to the chair and slipping into his burgundy shirt. He heard a series of clicks at the door just before it opened revealing the imposing shape of a security bot.

"Dr. Doom requests your presence," the monotonous voice droned.

"Do I have a choice?" Stinger said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. The drone continued to monitor him through its stoic yellow optic. "Fine. Where to, Bolt-breath?"

"Follow me."

Somewhat reluctantly, Stinger followed the drone down the labyrinth of stone hallways, this time, paying special attention to the bright-colored tapestries and drapes adorning each corridor. The information may come in handy later. One thing they stressed back in UPT was situational awareness—being aware of what's around you and your enemies, at all times in any position. For a fighter pilot, lack of situational awareness would kill you as quickly as your enemy could press that red firing button. Stinger's high degree of situational awareness had kept him alive for three of the five years since he had been winged; he hoped his senses would serve him just as well here in Doom's castle.

After a rather lengthy march, the drone stopped before the massive black oak doors that led to the main dining hall. The doors opened slowly permitting the young lieutenant entry. Once again Doom stood at the head of the massive dining table patiently waiting for his arrival. The biggest difference in the room today was the lack of extensive table fare which Stinger had partaken of yesterday. This morning, the table was bare with the exception of two plates and a fine, long stemmed glass and a mug.

Doom silently motioned for the pilot to be seated; he complied and eyed the mouth-watering food before him. The plate consisted of four fried eggs, over easy by the looks of it, complemented by two thick slices of bacon cooked to crispy-edged perfection; next to the bacon was a large heap of diced, fried potatoes, golden brown. Beside the large platter, a sizeable heap of flaky, golden biscuits and a large bowl of white pepper gravy finished the breakfast of kings. The large, long-stemmed glass was filled to the brim with apple cider; as for the mug, well, it too was filled to the brim, only with the blackest coffee the pilot had ever seen. _And I though yesterday's meal was too good to be true! It's almost as if Doom…knows…exactly what my favorite breakfast is…Oh, sweet Mary in heaven…Either this man can read minds or he has some damn good intelligence! This cannot bode well, oh, this cannot bode well at all!_

"I regret to inform you that I will be unable to converse with you over breakfast this morning," Doom began, giving the pilot an indistinguishable look. "I must go and make preparations."

"Preparations?" Stinger chased, raising a skeptical eyebrow. He could have sworn he saw Doom's eyes narrow, before resuming their unemotional hue.

"Yes, I wouldn't want your friend, Skywarp, to be uncomfortable with the procedures ahead," Doom replied before exiting out the door. Stinger felt himself pale; suddenly the breakfast before him looked about as appealing as sawdust and "horse apples." It was time to update Starscream.

* * *

Doom returned about an hour later, briskly motioning for Stinger to follow him. They were accompanied by one security drone to very same room that Stinger had left Skywarp in yesterday. As they entered the lab, Stinger could tell that something wasn't right. Skywarp's optics were dark and lifeless; it looked almost as if his friend had bought the farm. He turned on Doom.

"What did you do to him?" he demanded, his grey eyes icing over.

"You will soon be witnessing history in the making, my dear Lieutenant," Doom began as if he hadn't even heard the question.

In a fit of rage, Stinger grabbed Doom by the cloth of his tunic and yanked Doom close to him, eye to eye. "_I said, 'WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?" _he shouted angrily.

Stinger felt a cold iron hand grip his shoulder and yank him away from Doom forcefully. The Doombot easily lifted the pilot by his shoulder and deposited him several feet away from its master. The pilot rubbed his shoulder reproachfully, fortunately it hadn't been the one with the shrapnel injury.

"Your 'friend', as you so erroneously put it, is still functional, albeit in a comatose fashion. I will reactivate his neural and cognitive systems once I have completed downloading his navigational data."

Stinger gave Doom a quizzical look. "Navigational data?"

Doom scoffed mockingly. "It appears you do not know your friend as well as you though you did, Lieutenant. Your Decepticon friend here possesses the most extensive intergalactic mapping system that I have ever seen. Not only has he mapped the vast majority of our dear planet Earth, but there are hundreds of thousands of coordinates within his central processing unit that span across the galaxy… " he paused for emphasis, "maybe even the universe. With this type of data at my disposal I will be able to extend my reach much further than I had originally anticipated."

Stinger could imagine the malevolent smirk behind the mask of the psychotic monarch. He had known that Skywarp possessed the capability to navigate and transwarp anywhere within a designated range, hell, it wasn't exactly an experience he wanted to repeat. But he had never considered the implication that the Seeker would possess a vast database of navigational data spanning the galaxy within that thick head of his. This whole situation was getting worse by the minute.

Doom had turned his attention to the control panel and was avidly watching the navigational coordinates scroll down the screen. He brazenly had his back turned to Stinger and was quite pointedly ignoring his "guest". It rankled the pilot that this pompous excuse for a walking toaster didn't even regard him as a serious threat to his life, or for that matter didn't regard any of them—him, Starscream or Thundercracker as a pertinent threat. _But that's OK, _he consoled himself. Arrogance has been the downfall of many a military strategist and if they played their cards right, it would be the downfall of Dr. Doom as well. Doom's deep voice pulled him from his musings.

"I am impressed," Doom mused out loud. "The wealth of information that this Decepticon possesses is phenomenal. The process of downloading his mapping cortex is taking longer than I anticipated."

"You're a sick bastard, Doom," Stinger said softly, almost under his breath. "I would almost pity you if I didn't want to kill you first."

"Will it be safe to assume then, that you reject my generous terms for citizenry within my new world order?" Doom asked, turning from his position over the console. His green eyes were emotionless behind that cold, inhuman metal plate.

"I reckon so, Doom," Stinger replied quietly, raising his stubbled chin in a small show of defiance. "Given a choice between you or the Decepticons ruling this planet, I'll take those metal heads over you anyday," he finished coolly, his eyes matching his voice.

"You're foolishness is superseded only by your insolence, Lieutenant Kesinger," Doom replied in an equally dispassioned tone. His eyes narrowed.

All of a sudden, a massive tremor shook the stone walls of the laboratory. Doom whirled around, his cape flaring with the sudden movement. He tapped viciously on the keys at the control panel; one of the large monitors flickered and then changed from scrolling numerical data to a large schematic of the castle. Another monitor simultaneously showed a live video feed of the source of the explosion.

Stinger couldn't suppress the grin tugging at his lips as he watched Thundercracker and Starscream bash their way through the rubble of one of the castle's outer walls. Let the fun begin!

"So…It appears your allies have finally devised a method of intrusion undetectable to my military drones. No matter. They're fates are as good as sealed," Doom said, his voice as suave and confident as ever.

"Why say that, Doom?" Stinger challenged the dictator. He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow with mocking concern. "At this point in time, the last thing I would want to deal with is a pair of enraged, murderous Decepticons hell bent on turning me into a metallic pretzel."

Doom's evil, almost demonic laugh filled the room. "If they want to deal with me, they will have to defeat my army first," he replied. He tapped a command into the massive computer and displayed a scene that made Stinger's blood chill. Deep within the bowels of the castle, he watched as rows upon rows of military drones activate and then proceed to exit the room from somewhere off screen. He wasn't exactly an expert at estimation, but he would hazard a guess and say there were more than 500 hundred drones crammed within that room.

"Did you fools really believe that you could defeat me easily? This is but one room of several dozen that harbor my extensive army. The breach in the castle's wall has activated my emergency response sequence, thus making every operable Doombot in Latveria respond to my aid. Your pathetic allies will now finally meet their end."

Stinger couldn't pull his gaze from the viewscreen. This development was totally unexpected; he hadn't counted on Doom harboring his entire robot militia within the castle. Once again it seemed that the villainous tyrant was one step ahead of them. Starscream and Thundercracker were now engaging the first wave of drones; they seemed to be holding their own, but just barely.

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch, Chrome Dome," the pilot retorted. In a swift, fluid motion, one he had practiced many times over his years on the farm, he drew the knife from the sheath in his boot and launched himself at the hooded figure. At that point in time, everything seemed to slow to the pace of a snail on fly paper. The knife upraised, his face set into a fierce scowl, Stinger was almost upon his target when Doom neatly sidestepped his lunge and made a sweeping motion with his left arm. Instantaneously the pilot felt as if 10,000 volts of electricity were arcing through his body. He went rigid in mid-air and felt a powerful force sweep his whole body to one side. It felt most akin to being swept aside by a tornado, except the air bristled with electric current. His body slammed into the stone wall, a respectable five feet above the floor, before he fell unceremoniously into a heap on the floor. The knife clattered across the floor, unwillingly freed from its owner's hand. The sound of the sharp, metal blade striking the cold stone echoed long within the room. When the echo had faded away, Doom approached his fallen adversary.

"Foolish American! Your titanic, metal allies struggle against my might and yet you thought you could take me single-handedly!? Pathetic. I expected much more from the man who spent over one week defying my hospitality." Doom strode angrily to the door, his green cape billowing behind him like an angry wave. As he reached the door, the Latverian lord turned and spoke to the downed pilot one last time. "In less than ten minutes time, your Decepticon contemporaries will be smoldering heaps decorating my corridor. Did you think I was not aware of your miserable rescue attempt? You've only succeeded in sparing me the effort of hunting those metal monstrosities down. Indeed, how considerate of you to bring them to me like sheep to the slaughter. In fact, I will be sure to tell them all, Skywarp included, how you betrayed their trust to me."

"Never…believe…you…" Stinger mumbled through numbed lips.

Doom chuckled behind his mask. "Don't forget with whom you've been dealing, Lieutenant. Decepticons are quite familiar with treachery. With any luck, this news shall enrage your comrades and make for quite an entertaining spectacle against my drones, not their rage will benefit them to any degree. Now, if you'll excuse me, Lieutenant, I must go and deliver this fortuitous news as well as bid our unwelcome guests farewell."

The only response Stinger could muster was a low moan through pained and blood-stained lips.

**A/N: Please forgive any spelling errors; I proofed, but was also in a hurry. Don't forget to review! Cheers!!**


	15. Dealing with the Devil

**A/N: A rather lengthy chapter for a rather lengthy wait. I'm a believer in music setting the tone for a story or chapter. After much deliberation, I've come to the conclusion that Three Days Grace's song "Get Out Alive" is the perfect complement to this story/chapter. Give it a listen if you so wish.**

**I would like to thank all my reviewers and "story/favorite alerters" for your support. Without you guys, this story wouldn't have made it this far. Thanks everyone!**

**Chapter 15: Dealing with the Devil**

Starscream knew something was wrong the moment he and Thundercracker came within sensor range of the city. It had been easy, too easy. Surely their plan hadn't worked so well that they were completely undetected? It seemed painfully obvious that this being known as Doom knew of their plans; he couldn't hypothesize any other reason for the total lack of resistance. In all honesty, he would have rather faced off with a few Doombots; at least he would have felt better about how things should have gone, but as it stood, this total lack of confrontation made him extremely edgy. It almost seemed as if Doom was not even taking them seriously at this point which meant one of two things: either Doom was so cocky to the point that he was grossly underestimating them or the human was that confident in their destruction and had something else planned for them somewhere along the way—perhaps both hypotheses held an element of truth.

They approached the castle flying low and hard; their thrusters igniting the early dawn with hungry flames. _I don't like this, Screamer," _Thundercracker commed his Commander. "_It's just too easy."_

"_I agree with you there, TC, but there really isn't anything we can do about it now. We'll just have to go ahead and follow through, come whatever may. Keep your sensors sharp and for Primus's sake, don't drop your guard!"_

The towering walls of the ancient construct loomed dark and foreboding against the slow rising sun of the east. The dark stone walls almost gave the castle the appearance of an extremely large stone mausoleum. Thundercracker hoped these dark feelings overshadowing his good sense weren't a premonition of things to come. He armed his cannons and made ready to blast an opening in the side of the castle. Strangely, there had been no guards on the city walls, no military bots to rise up and meet them, it was still too early for any citizens to be up milling the streets—things were way too quiet. Like Starscream, Thundercracker knew something wasn't right, but there wasn't much he could do to stop this chain of events already set into motion. The best thing to do now was to just keep his sensors and optics sharp and rely on his millions of stellar cycles of experience to get him and his wingmates through this. All three of them had come too far and fought too many battles only to be taken off-line by a pathetic, half-crazed organic with a Megatron complex.

"_Ready your weapons!" _Starscream's command broke through his thoughts.

"_Weapons armed," _he replied.

"_FIRE!!" _Starscream shrieked over their com link.

A furious storm of missile fire assaulted the granite stone as the two Cons unleashed their deadly volley. The massive entrance to the stone edifice briefly disappeared in a cloud of vaporized granite before slowly reappearing to reveal a much more Decepticon-friendly entrance way. Small pebbles and crumbs from the scorched walls fell from the edges like pepper dashed from the shaker. Starscream and Thundercracker transformed and landed gracefully before their new entrance, laser cannons raised and primed for battle. They crouched before the entrance way to ensure no ambushers were waiting from within the castle's depths. After a brief moment, they straightened, but still held their cannons at the ready; their sensors didn't display any hostiles, but to them that only meant their enemy could be employing energy signature cloaks. Starscream motioned for Thundercracker to advance; he did so cautiously. He scanned the interior with both his optics and his sensors but found no trace of drones or human guards—the coast was clear. Taking a massive black-enameled fist, Thundercracker struck the side of the hole in order to make it slightly more accommodating for his wingspread. On the other side, Starscream mimicked his maneuver. Once the hole was large enough to admit the two of them, they entered back to back, wing to wing. The coast was clear.

Now this is really feeling too easy," Starscream mumbled out loud. He lowered his lasers just a little and took a few cautious steps towards the ominous corridor. Thundercracker merely grunted a response; his sonic modifications created an extremely low frequency buzzing noise, now that they were confined within the castle walls. He subconsciously set the system on stand-by, knowing that at the slightest pulse his most powerful and prized weapon would be at the ready.

"Well, let's get this over with," he rumbled softly, taking the lead and entering the corridor. If the castle seemed intimidating on the outside, it appeared even more foreboding from within. The large vaulted hallways were tall enough to admit the two Seekers without having them bending or crouching uncomfortably, however the width of the corridors left something to be desired. Occasionally, Starscream would nick a candle sconce with his wingtip or Thundercracker's leading edge would catch a tapestry and neatly tear the fabric from seam to seam. It was dark, it was close-quartered with limited mobility, but most importantly it stirred those feelings of claustrophobia that every Seeker had deeply programmed within their core processor.

Thundercracker barely fought back the urge to just obliterate the walls and be done with it; fear was a powerful enemy and there was no sense in advertising to the enemy exactly what your weaknesses were. As for Starscream, he tried to valiantly home in on the signal beacon implanted within the communications wafer he had given the pilot; it both distracted him from the seemingly moving walls as well as kept him focused on the goal at hand—finding Skywarp. The corridor suddenly brightened as both Decepticons cautiously entered a large cathedral-like room. It gave little relief to the two Seekers; they were still trapped under tons of cut granite, literally deep within enemy territory. Every sensor node was keyed to its highest sensitivity. An ornate, large balcony dominated the furthest end of the heavily decorated hall. Brightly colored tapestries and drapes swung lazily against the walls and gave the room a false sense of cheer that was palpable even as it was felt. That twitter in the fuel tank Thundercracker had been feeling was slowly getting worse. He glanced quickly over at Starscream. His Commander was slowly taking in every exquisite detail, recording every possible escape route and most likely attempting to hypothesize the most likely avenue of attack. Starscream's optics glowed a fervent cherry, their hue matching several of the tapestries perfectly.

Suddenly Starscream turned and glared at his comrade. "Do you feel something?" he whispered hoarsely.

Thundercracker shot his wingmate a quizzical look, one optic ridge cocked curiously. "What?"

The red and white Seeker merely cocked his head towards the floor and gave two sharp nods. Thundercracker took the hint and focused his attention on the stone floor. At first he didn't feel or hear anything; he scrunched his faceplates in concentration trying to figure out exactly what his Commander was talking about. Then he felt it, tiny vibrations tickling his thrusters. The blue Seeker knelt down and placed a broad, black palm onto the floor. He definitely felt it now. The vibrations were rhythmic, steady—there were no interruptions between beats. It almost sounded like…He quickly cast Starscream a concerned look. His trine leader nodded his head grimly.

Thundercracker slowly stood and powered up his cannons and made ready for the battle to come. Not two klicks later, the wall below the balcony split apart revealing a hidden corridor. Unfortunately, it wasn't empty. As far as either of their optics could see, rows upon rows of drones filled the corridor, marching slowly and steadily towards the two Decepticons. Their single, green optics glowed like hot acid and the hum from their weapons systems sounded like a swarm of angry African bees.

"Primus help us," Starscream muttered, his words barely reaching Thundercracker's audios. Almost simultaneously, the two jets began firing at the massive horde of metal only to have their laser blasts ricochet harmlessly off the force fields.

"I should have known," the blue Eagle growled as the swarm of metal monstrosities began to close around them. He instantly activated his sonic wavelength generator and gave it as much power as he dared in such close quarters. The sonic waves hit the drones' force fields in force, causing the electrical energy to shimmer in iridescent waves. A few nanoseconds later, a loud _crack_ filled the room signaling the collapse of the protective fields. Almost reading his processor, Starscream instantly loosed a barrage of lethal laser fire that destroyed the first row of drones not 20 feet before them. The subsequent explosions weakened the force fields of the drones behind them, giving both Seekers an opportunity to obliterate another dozen or so enemies.

Suddenly a flash of green drew Starscream's attention up and slightly to his left. Immediately, the drones advancement ceased leaving him and Thundercracker standing with arm cannons raised as tendrils of acrid smoke trailed from the barrels' tips.

"_You! You're the deranged piece of protoplasm that is responsible for this!"_ Starscream all but shrieked; he pointed one accusing blue finger at the figure on the balcony.

"An accurate observation, my metallic friend. You may call me Dr. Doom," Doom suavely replied. "And to whom do I owe the pleasure of meeting your acquaintance?"

Starscream straightened to his full and imposing height, his face nearly even with the ledge of the balcony. Even so, the Decepticon SIC was a little perturbed that this insect could still look down on him. "I am Starscream, the Decepticon Second in Command, Air Commander of the Aerial Elite and future leader of all of Cybertron. You would do well to surrender, earth germ, and give back to us our comrade less you face the consequences."

"Ah, I see. And who might your associate be?" Doom asked, ignoring Starscream's threat as easily as a passing cloud.

"Who I am is irrelevant. Now, where is Skywarp, meat sack?" Thundercracker rumbled, his voice echoing within the cavernous room. His optics seethed with a hate that very few had ever witnessed. His cannons never wavered as they pointed directly towards Dr. Doom.

"My, my," Doom tsked, "I must presume that you are the Decepticon Seeker known as Thundercracker. You Decepticons waste little time on pleasantries."

"The only thing I'm wasting is the time in which it would take me to reduce you to a boiling puddle of organic matter," Starscream growled lowly. "Now answer my wingmate: _WHERE IS SKYWARP?!"_

"I've been expecting you, actually," Doom continued. Starscream suspiciously narrowed his optics. What was this bone bag getting at? And the fact that he continually ignored their demands did not go unnoticed.

"It is certainly difficult to find trustful allies these days."

Starscream's patience was wearing very thin, very quickly. "What are you babbling about, earth germ?!"

"Why your pilot friend, of course. How else do you think I knew of your arrival?"

Starscream and Thundercracker exchanged looks. It certainly made sense and they hadn't heard from the pilot in a good many breems. Had Doom somehow managed to turn the pilot against them? Or did Doom somehow coerce the information from the pathetic weakling? In any event of what happened before, it was completely irrelevant now. If they made it out of this situation alive then they would deal with the potentially traitorous human, if Doom hadn't already done so for them.

"_He's lying," _Thundercracker commed his Commander.

"_How can you be so sure?" _Starscream replied. _"I would not put it past any of these human scum to commit betrayal when their own best interests are at risk."_

"_Call it a hunch. You weren't in a position of trust, as was I, during our last run-in with these abominations."_

"_Then you trust too easily."_

"_You don't trust enough."_

Starscream unceremoniously cut the connection, no longer interested in listening to his wingmate's input. He turned his attention to Doom. "Whether or not that piece of putrid flesh betrayed us, it has little bearing on the present situation. Now, I will ask _one more time—_tell us where Skywarp is and we may consider letting you leave with your life," the red and silver Eagle said at a near inaudible level. However soft the threat, its implication rang as loud as a clock tower striking midnight.

Instantly Doom dropped his pleasantry façade, a cold, icy tone entering his voice. "The way I see it, _Commander,_ you are not in any position to be making demands of _me. _Last time I checked, you struggled immensely against only five of my drones. Do you honestly believe you could fight your way through _several hundred_? Even the _mighty _Starscream would not be so foolish!" Doom paused for emphasis. He silently cherished the pure rage radiating from the bested Decepticon, but now was not the time to savor victory, not yet. "However," he continued, "I would be willing to offer you an alternative proposition should you still value your existence._" _

Starscream laughed. It was a high, screechy, mocking laugh filled with hate and malice. "Why doctor! How courteous of you to be looking out for our lives, when yours is in just as much danger!"

"Do not mock me, Decepticon! Your _friend _is currently under my hospitality. It would be a sore thing indeed should anything we say and do now, influence his future condition."

"Why you insolent…!" Starscream snarled angrily. In the next instant he fired a brilliant pink laser ray at the hooded, green-cloaked metallic human. Doom never even flinched; the lethal laser blast struck an invisible field and was harmlessly absorbed.

Starscream's cocky smirk instantly melted into one of pure outrage. He made ready to fire again when Thundercracker's calm, collected voice once again filtered over his com. "_You know that's not going to work. This human thinks awfully highly of himself, like someone else that I know." _Starscream's blue wingmate chided him, "_Keep him talking; buy us some time until we can figure out a better method of attack."_

Starscream grimaced as he listened to his wingmate's words. Oh, how he hated how right TC could be at times! Without acknowledging his trinemate, Starscream slowly lowered his null ray cannons and gave the Doctor a scathing, searching look.

"Fine. We'll do things your way. You mentioned a proposition, did you not?"

Behind the adamantium mask, the green eyes smiled. "Yes, I do, Starscream. It has come to my attention that you desire absolute control of the Decepticon forces, do you not?"

Instantly, Doom had Starscream's attention. Those red optics brightened like heated iron and the Seeker began to stroke his dark grey chin with a blue-enameled hand. "Yes, that is true. I would by far make a better leader than that pompous, outdated scrapheap Megatron," he murmured.

Thundercracker cast Starscream a concerned look. This conversation wasn't exactly what he had in mind when he told Screamer to keep the human talking. That miniature tin can had hit his Commander at his weakest point—the ego. This had the potential to end very badly.

"How would you feel if I told you that I could make that possible?"

"I'm listening."

"If you were to join forces with me, Commander Starscream, I would give you the means necessary to accomplish your wildest fantasies. I could give you partial control over my army. You yourself can attest to their—durability. Just imagine your illustrious leader falling prey to their superior firepower and all at your command. You can have Cybertron, Starscream, you can have whatever you desire if you only agree to work with me."

"And what of my wingmate?"

"Your wingmate will be released as well as repaired. Think about it, Starscream. You and your—wingmates—will never again have to subjugate yourselves under another's authority again. You will be able to return to your home planet and rebuild what your hateful enemies have destroyed. Is this not what you and your comrades have fought for for millennia? Do you not think it is time to put an end to your accursed war, Commander? To be immortalized in your history as the Cybertronian who ended the Great War?"

"For such an isolated being you sure do know an awful lot of our history and politics," Thundercracker commented, his scarlet optics filled with suspicion.

"Doom makes it his business to know of the goings and comings of all—how shall Doom say—beings of interest on this planet; Doom would not be a good monarch if Doom did not. So what shall it be Commander?"

* * *

He hurt. Damn how he hurt. He knew that several of his ribs were either broken or bruised—broken more likely, judging by how hard it was to breath at the moment. Slowly and gingerly, Stinger began to pick himself off of the floor. He may be down, but this USAF pilot was far from out. After several agonizing seconds, the pilot finally made it to his hands and knees. He paused, trying to catch what little breath he could. Blood dribbled from a cut lip only to create a miniature puddle between his hands. Various other bruises splotched his body in a sickly pattern of blossoming blues, purples, and yellows.

_Note to self: never bring a knife to a telekinesis fight,_ he thought with bitter irony. Doom's unorthodox attack had taken him by complete surprise. They didn't exactly teach you how to combat telekinesis in basic training; then again they never taught you how to fight giant alien robots either. Stinger shook his head forcefully to try and clear the muddled, red-colored fog that seemed to envelope his cognitive processes. Almost simultaneously, he felt an overpowering wave of nausea assault his body; he didn't fight it either. Within a few minutes, breakfast revisited his bloodshot eyes, although this time around it looked slightly less appealing.

His stomach finally settling, the pilot then proceeded to try and stand. He wiped the spittle and blood from his lips and rocked back onto his heels into a squatting position. He then slowly and unsteadily stood to his feet, using the wall for support. When that arduous task was completed, he stooped down and picked his knife up off the floor. It was time to finish this fight once and for all. Stinger turned around and approached the dark, silent figure lying prone across the majority of the floor.

Skywarp's optics were still dark and lifeless; the only sure sign that Stinger knew his friend was still alive came from the dull thrumming deep inside Skywarp's mechanical body. Placing one foot before the other, he approached the embattled body, a look of stoic resolution on his face. He placed his hands on Skywarp's arm and hoisted himself up onto the black metal. Next, he diligently began to climb towards the black Seeker's helm, using Skywarp's arm as a pathway. Once there, he puzzled over the problem that lay before him now. Several thick wires ran from Skywarp's head to the large computer console that sat several feet to his immediate left. If he were to just start cutting wires indiscriminately, he could injure Skywarp more than he already was. If he didn't do _something_ Doom would possess all the navigational data Skywarp had ever accrued in his existence; he couldn't attack the computer console—at least not outright. A sly smile began to pull at the pilot's battered lips. He needed to hurry; Starscream and Thundercracker were undoubtedly fighting Doom and his Doombots so time was a precious commodity.

Sliding down from his perch, Stinger quickly approached the computer and studied its complex arrangement. About midway in the console, there was a flat, green glass screen similar to a radar display. Perfect. Hoping and praying with every ounce of his essence, Stinger took a couple of steps backward and then plunged the knife into the machine as hard as he physically could. The composite handle insulated his hands from the electric shock that rippled across the console like waves in a boat's wake. It wasn't enough; the electric guarding field still held. Gritting his teeth, Stinger yanked the knife from the console and made another thrust.

With a loud gunshot-like _crack, _the electric field finally gave out allowing Stinger access to its darkest secrets. Wasting no time, the pilot began to quickly peck at the keys trying to find the program that was storing Skywarp's data as well as keeping him off-line. It took him some effort, but the wily pilot soon found what he was searching for. For all of Doom's intelligence, he had neglected to input security firewalls in the event his high voltage security field was breeched. _Ah, the price one pays for arrogance!_ Stinger thought smugly as he quickly stopped the flow of navigational data. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Stinger typed in the last command, turned and waited.

At first, nothing occurred; the room remained deathly quiet as the human held his breath and waited. Suddenly, a flicker of red light drew Stinger's attention. It flashed once, then twice before illuminating to its complete brilliance.

"Warp?" Stinger asked hesitantly, his voice loud within the confines of the laboratory.

A loud screeching creak ripped through the stillness as Stinger watched his friend's head turn in his direction. "Squish? What in the Pit are you doing here?" The Decepticon all but croaked hoarsely.

Releasing his breath with a rush of relief, Stinger dashed to Skywarp's side and began to fiddle with the heavy clamps that kept the Con chained in place.

"I told you this game wasn't over yet. Let's just say that old fat lady is about to hit a high note. Now, hang tight; your two buds, Starscream and Thundercracker are gonna get you outta here." He grunted loudly as he strained against the bolt. With a loud click, the pin locking the clamp slid loose, releasing the heavy chain.

"They're…here?"

"Yep. Unfortunately, they're both held up at the moment by Doom's robotic retards. As soon as I get you free, I'm gonna try and find Doom's master control point. There's gotta be some way to stop those walking sardine cans en masse."

Skywarp strained his head to the side and looked over Stinger's shoulder. His one functional optic glimmered in the low light as he studied the computer console. "I see… you got past that slagger's defense system."

Stinger held his knife up for Skywarp to see. "Nothing a little American ingenuity couldn't handle," he smirked. He quickly walked around Skywarp's body and began to release the second clamp. Hs ribs ached something fierce, but he would be damned first before letting anyone know his condition until they were free from Doom's grasp.

The black and purple Seeker returned the smirk, his optic glinting devilishly. "Well now, allow me to show you some Decepticon ingenuity. Watch and learn, fleshy." He raised his free arm and grasped the wiring plugged into his chassis. Skywarp then ripped the wiring free of its connection, the torn ends sparking and sizzling in protest; he did the same for his helm. He was still dangerously weak and his energy reserves were all but dissipated, but that wasn't going to stop Skywarp from giving Doom hell for what he had done and was still planning to do. Next he stretched his arm towards the console and spread the fingers of his hand across the floor. The ends of his fingertips opened to allow several small wires to snake their way out and towards the console. Like slithering serpents, the wires crossed the remaining distance, worked their way up the console and jacked themselves into the hard drive. Instantly, the screen became alive with flashing images, scrolling numbers, and linear schematics. The screen was flashing so quickly that Stinger couldn't decipher what was what; as it was, he returned his attention to the stubborn locking clamp still firmly impeding Skywarp's right arm.

After approximately fifteen seconds, the screen ceased flashing, pausing on a large diagram of the castle's layout. "You need to go here," Skywarp announced, rolling his head to look at Stinger. The pilot glanced up to glimpse at the screen before he walked around Skywarp's body to get a closer look. He studied the screen for several seconds, slowly memorizing every detail.

He glanced over his shoulder and nodded, "Got it."

"You might wanna take one of these," Skywarp added. Using his left hand, he broke the chain tying his right arm to the floor and opened his storage compartment. He reached in and withdrew the last remaining plasma grenade that had been taken in their first raid. "Call it an insurance policy. I've already wiped this computer clean of everything Doom took from me and more; I'll finish up in here. Now go!"

Stinger nodded and began to shuffle to the door. He waited for Skywarp to open the metal barrier before stepping out and giving his friend one last look. "If I don't make it, Warp, I just want you to know that you were best opponent a pilot could ever wish to confront. It's been an honor, sir."

"Tell me something I don't know, meatbag," the Seeker smirked, but his words lacked any of his former vehemence. If anything, they were filled with just a touch of warmth and friendly mockery. "I have to say for a human, you'd make one hell of a Decepticon and I won't say it was honor, but I'll admit, it sure was fun!"

Stinger grinned. He knew it was as close to a compliment as he would ever receive. Turning on his heel, he began to stumble down the hallway, gripping his ribs with one hand and the grenade in the other. There was one last mission to complete, one last sortie to fly and then perhaps this hell-like nightmare would finally be over—for all of them.

Skywarp watched the pilot disappear around a corner, knowing damn well that that human was more han likely sacrificing his life to ensure his and his wingmates' escape. And for the first time since being on Earth and coming into contact with humans, Skywarp now understood just why the Autobots held them in such high regard.

He backed out of Doom's computer system and removed his hacking wires from the console. Using what was left of his precious energy, Skywarp then turned on his left side and slammed his massive fist into console repeatedly until only pieces the size of baseballs remained. His work done there was nothing left for the black and purple Seeker to do but wait—and that had never been an area of expertise suited for the teleport.

* * *

Stinger hustled as quickly as he physically could down the corridor, his destination memorized. His path took him deeper into the castle's depths, into areas he had never been before. Many of the passageways were barely lit, giving the stone a cold, even evil, feeling as he passed by. Stinger suppressed a shudder as a cold chill tried to run the length of his sweating back. _Soon. This will all be over soon_, he reassured himself as he half-ran, half-hobbled. Finally he entered the last corridor only to be confronted by a dead end. _This can't be right. Warp's map showed a room here in this area._ The pilot puzzled over this anomaly for several seconds before being struck with an idea. He feverishly began running his hands over the wall searching for a hidden button or trigger. Knowing how Doom operated, the slippery Latverian monarch would probably have a secret room hidden somewhere in this passageway and this old castle seemed to be just the right setting for such a stereotype. His bloodied fingers searched and pried the ancient stone, begging for it to give up this one secret.

He was beginning to feel like a fool when his fingertips brushed the polished brass of an unlit candle sconce. Gripping the brass firmly he gave a gentle tug and watched in fascination as the wall before him parted right down the center revealing a hidden room. _Looks like all those Hardy Boys novels I read as a kid finally paid off, _he thought to himself.

He ducked inside and stared in rapt wonder at the massive computer system that filled an equally impressive room. On the far side a glass window composed one entire wall allowing any onlookers to gaze out into the depths below. Stinger slowly approached the window and stared in awe at the sight before him. Below him for several stories, stretched a massive factory-like environment. The cavernous room beyond was filled with conveyors, welders, riveters, cutters and so much more—all robotic and all contributing to the swelling ranks of Doom's metallic army. The complex before Stinger would put most industrial manufacturing centers to shame as well as every single robotic research facility back in the 'States. _So this is how that bastard builds them. Huh. Well, not anymore!_ _Your manic way of thinking stops here Dr. Douche!_

Whirling from the window, he strode back to the entrance of the room. Next Stinger primed the plasma grenade and threw it onto the supercomputer, praying that it would be enough. Oh, how he wished for enough ordinance to blow Doom's factory into next Sunday! But he would have to suffice with merely shutting the drones down.

The pilot hobbled from the entrance knowing that the seconds were limited and he only had a precious few to try and make it to safety. Had he been at full health, Stinger would have made it. The blast ripped through the stone and wooden supports of that section of the castle, effectively ending Doom's control over his robot army. However, the shockwave hit the injured pilot full force, knocking Stinger to ground and causing him to grip his ribs in agony. His eyes rolled up just in time to see a massive, wooden support beam crashing down upon him.

Stone and mortar accompanied the beam, showering the pilot in dust and grit. He didn't scream, he didn't cry out. In fact, he didn't even utter a sound as the wooden beam struck his leg, destroying the bones within and pinioning the pilot in place. Huge slabs of rock rained down around his body, other smaller pieces cut into his flesh, adding to the already growing collection of scars and lacerations. Stinger's lungs burned like black fire as he inhaled the dust and struggled for breath. He ground his teeth in an attempt to hold back his scream of pain as the weight of the beam settled across his thigh.

He watched hopelessly as more and more rock fell from the ceiling, slowly and steadily burying him within their cold depths. He prayed silently that Skywarp would make it out alive and that Starscream and Thundercracker would put an end to Doom and his megalomania. There were just some people who didn't deserve a right to trial, their actions were so heinous, and although many would disagree with him, he knew the three Decepticons wouldn't.

A wild and wooly life Stinger had lived and he didn't regret a second of it. Although he always thought he would die while in the confines of a cockpit, he didn't feel bitterness or resentment towards the Decepticons with whom he had become entangled. On the contrary, he felt he couldn't have served or fought with a finer group of soldiers on the planet. Some would call these thoughts treasonous, but after all Stinger had been through over the past week, he realized he really didn't care. They always say choose the lesser of the two evils and he guessed he had done just that by helping the Decepticons get one leg up on Doom. Earth's future was still shrouded in fog and even if Doom was defeated, the pilot realized all would go back to the way it was—with the Decepticons struggling against the Autobots and humanity for dominion over Earth and her resources. He may or may not have done the Earth a favor just now, but at least he gave his life saving a friend, a wingman's life. To this pilot, that was all that really mattered.

As the dust began to settle, Stinger allowed himself to slip into the welcoming arms of unconsciousness. The inky blackness was a welcoming relief from the red-hot stabs of pain he had felt over the past half hour. Skywarp had been right—it sure as hell had been fun.

* * *

Starscream glared at Doom for several long, agonizing seconds. The offer was quite tempting. These drones were some of the most powerful weapons of destruction he had ever seen. They would certainly give Megatron a run for his credits. But on the other hand, he would be allying himself with the very same human who was preparing to sacrifice his trinemate for the destruction of Earth and hopefully Megatron. This may very well be the only opportunity he would ever have of finally turning the tables on that silver, obsolete rust bucket once and for all. For once his dreams of ruling Cybertron seemed within reach; he had only to accept the offer.

Suddenly, everyone heard a loud explosion from somewhere deep within the castle. Its reverberations shook the very foundations as it passed through the stone. Then Doom's eyes widened in surprise as every single Doombot that had the two Seekers surrounded crashed into a heap onto the floor. Their optics dimmed to a cold shade of jade and their weapons whined into silence. The resounding sounds of metal bodies hitting the floor and each other echoed throughout the castle. Even Skywarp could hear the cacophonous melody from his room. The teleport allowed a knowing smirk to pull at his lip components before he finally succumbed to energy-drain and entered emergency stasis-lock. Stinger had done it; he had turned the tide of this battle and the unexpected turn of events came as quite a surprise to both mechs and human alike.

Starscream narrowed his optics, the cherry red hue dimming to a smoldering burgundy. He didn't quite understand what happened, but was very pleased nonetheless of the outcome. Details would come later and his decision had been made.

"As tempting as that offer is," the Air Commander began, casting a disdainful look at the mangled metal bodies surrounding him, "I believe I'm going to have to refuse your offer, _doctor. _It appears your creations still have a few bugs that need to be worked out,_" _Starscream smirked.

On the balcony, Doom gripped the handrailing with such intensity that he cracked the finely polished marble. _That accursed pilot! He's the one responsible for this!_ Doom thought angrily. _I should have finished him when I had the chance! Never mind that now; my rule will not be denied! _Doom then directed his thoughts to Starscream.

"So it may seem," he hissed. "But just because I no longer have my army, doesn't mean I can't finish you myself! All is not lost!"

He raised his metallic gauntlets and shot a livid streak of electricity towards the two Seekers. Starscream and Thundercracker leaped to the sides with nanoseconds to spare, the stream of energy charring the stone where they had just stood. Taking shelter behind the piles of lifeless bodies, Thundercracker and Starscream began returning fire.

"_Go find Skywarp. I'll cover you," _Starscream commed his wingmate.

"_Are your logic circuits fritzed!? This human is much more powerful than either one of us anticipated. You need help."_

"_Your logic processors will be the ones on the fritz if you don't get your aft in gear! I am perfectly capable of handling this matter myself! Now go! That's an order! Besides, Warp needs your help more than I do anyway."_

Thundercracker gave his Commander a bewildered look before making a mad dash into the corridor from which the drones had come. Lightning bolts peppered the area all around him, but none managed to hit their intended target as he leaped and dodged the lifeless shells of the drones. Finally, the barrage stopped altogether leaving the blue Seeker at peace to fulfill his mission. His processor swirled and milled at the events of the past breem—Starscream first denying a chance at total domination, that mysterious explosion that could have only been caused by Warp's human friend, and then Starscream volunteering to stay behind and occupy that insane human while he try to find and rescue Warp. Perhaps he didn't know his Air Commander (or humans for that matter) as well as he thought he did. He shook his head wearily and strode on down the dark corridor, his thrustered heels making the only sound within the dark passageway.


	16. The Final Countdown

**A/N: Well, everyone it's been one hell of a ride with this story. I regrettably inform you that there will be only one or two more chapters left after this one. *Wipes away tear* But fear not, for I am planning on a sequel, so keep your eyes open for it. Check out my profile page if you would like to see the synopsis. Thank you to everyone for your support, your reviews and PMs; without you guys I can tell you right now, this story would have never made it off the ground. You guys are the greatest!! Please enjoy this chapter as it was a joy to write!**

**Chapter 16: The Final Countdown**

"You have made a very unwise decision, Starscream," Doom whispered lowly as he walked between the piles of lifeless scrap that had once been his magnificent army.

"According to most, it would be about par for the course. I'm not that concerned," the red and silver Seeker retorted, he glided silently between his own piles of cover, constantly moving, constantly changing position less Doom would get a fix on his location. It seemed ridiculously absurd! Playing cat-and-mouse with an organic--and he feeling like the mouse! But this human was unlike any he had ever met or studied. His unique abilities were extraordinary for human technology. Starscream had concluded that the metallic skin covering the human's body was the source of his power.

A powerful blast ripped into a lifeless drone meters from his hiding place. Molten pieces of shrapnel flew in every direction, a few pieces landing on his left wing and torso. Starscream hissed in pain and dove towards the smoke of the explosion, using it as a screen to shield his movements. White hot bolts of electricity speared the area he inhabited moments before; the air sizzling as it became ionized from the attack.

This was getting ridiculous! He was Starscream! Second in Command of the entire Decepticon Army, pride of the aerial Elite, and terror of the skies! He should not be cowering like some filthy Autobot! Leaping from his cover, Starscream crouched in the open like a hellish, metallic predator. He raised his arm cannons and fired them at full power. Beautiful but deadly pink rays of sheer death leaped from the muzzles of the cannons. Starscream's aim was true, but to his increasing detriment the rays had about as much effect on Doom, as would a soft, summer breeze.

"Is that the best you can do Decepticon?" Doom taunted, waving his metal gauntlet at the residual smoke in the air. "Honestly, Starscream, your American lackey gave me more trouble than you."

The Eagle snarled in rage as Doom's mocking laughter floated across the massive hall. He pivoted on one thrustered heel as another blast of lightning shot past his right wingtip; he leaped into the air and activated his thrusters, the room being quite massive enough to permit such a maneuver. He rained down a storm of vengeful laser fire, hoping to overload Doom's forcefield with the intensity of his attack. But to no avail, it seemed as if the more he fired, the more amused Doom became.

"I _will not _be denied, alien scum! You will either join with me or crumble beneath my heel in defeat!"

"_Your _heel, Doctor?" Starscream scoffed. "Enjoy your inferior superiority while you can fleshling. For when this is all over, _you _will be the one cowering under _my _heel and I will be sure to grind your rotting carcass deep into the earth for the subterranean organisms to feast on your remains!"

Doom's response was another electrifying assault in the Decepticon's direction. Starscream easily dodged the barrage and took shelter behind another pile of drones. As much as he was at home in the air, Doom had the advantage in this fight. There was enough room to maneuver, but Starscream would need Skywarp's teleportation ability to fully utilize its potential. He did not want to take any chances with this fight, for he might not get another. Their power was equally matched, but Doom had that Primus-damned forceshield. Starscream knew that one good hit from Doom would probably short-circuit his systems and render him insensible for an indefinite period of time—time that he could not spare. No, he would not win this fight through brute force; that was a Megatron strategy; Starscream would need to try and outsmart this human. This foe required him to fall back on every devious, shrewd and resourceful circuit in his processor. A challenge indeed considering this fleshling was almost as intelligent and conniving as he was—_almost._

* * *

Thundercracker worked his way quickly through each and every corridor. When he came to a locked door, he would blast his way into a room, scan it for enemies, and then give it a more thorough search for any clues pointing to the whereabouts of his wingmate. But alas, his efforts were proving fruitless. The blue Seeker cursed his luck for the umpteenth time as he exited another empty room. Really, how many rooms did one human need to have? This was worse than navigating the catacombs below Cybertron's surface. At least that mission had been quick and uneventful, but this one seemed the exact opposite.

The dark, candlelit corridors made his sensors tingle uncomfortably. His scanners continuously picked up sensor ghosts, objects that appeared to be there but upon closer observation, revealed them to be nonexistent. His thrusters clattered loudly on the cold, stone floor and his wingtips scraped the walls with painful frequency. Thundercracker turned a corner and began to walk cautiously down another dim passageway. A few ornate tapestries fluttered briefly in his passing, as if protesting his very presence. Even the candles within their brass sconces flickered irritably as the winged Decepticon slowly traversed the passage.

Finally, his optics alighted on a massive metal door, a door that was remarkably different from the ones he had previously encountered. The red light from his optics reflected coolly back onto his blue armor, giving it a slightly purplish tinge. Stepping up to the door, he pressed his hands against the smooth metal, black fingers searching for a control panel, a crease, anything really that indicated a point of weakness. His left hand brushed across a very faint indentation running the center, vertical length of the door. He tried to press his fingers into the tiny crevice, but he couldn't quite get a good enough grip. Next, Thundercracker resorted to pounding on the door.

"Warp!? Skywarp! Are you in there!?" he shouted, his fists leaving dents in the metal plating. He stopped his beat-down of the door in order to hear a reply, if any. Five astroseconds, six astroseconds…ten astroseconds later and still no answer. Thundercracker was about ready to blast the door for the hell of it, when he heard a very feeble response.

"TC? Is that…you out there?"

The reply was so faint, so weak that if Thundercracker had not already turned up the gain on his audios, he might have missed it altogether.

"Warp! Ah, thank Primus you're still alive! It's me, TC! I'm gonna get you outta here, understand?"

Inside the room, Skywarp was nearly beside himself (or what was left of himself anyway) with glee. Finally! His wingmates had come to drag his tailfins out of this mess. "It's…about time you…slaggin' got here, glitchead!" he called back brokenly. His strength was quickly leaving him; he had already floated in and out of stasis lock he knew not how many times. How long had it been since Stinger left? Oh, right. His internal chronometer was still offline, along with the other seven-eighths of his mainframe.

"Prepare yourself! I'm gonna blast this door open!" he heard Thundercracker yell back in turn. Before the purple Seeker could really respond, a powerful blast rocked the room, filling it with thick smoke. Skywarp turned his head gingerly to see the massive doors sagging on their hinges, beaten but not entirely defeated. Wisps of smoke filtered between the gaping cracks. With a mighty crash, Thundercracker kicked the doors in, sending the obstinate barriers flying back on their already broken hinges. He stepped through the opening ducking his wings as he went, an unusual grin on his normally serious faceplates.

"Ya know, I…could have opened those for…you," Skywarp coughed as he eyed his wingmate.

"Where's the fun in that?" Thundercracker rumbled, surveying the room and Skywarp's decrepit condition.

"Dude, either my audios are just as slagged as the rest of my body, or you just said 'fun'."

"I don't _have _to do this, you know," the blue Seeker smirked as he made his way around Skywarp's body.

Skywarp snorted in response, the air making a raspy, rattling sound as it exited his vents. Thundercracker knew his wingmate was in a very sorry state. If they made it to Lakenheath, it would be by the good graces of Primus.

"Well, let's get you out of here. Screamer is taking care of Doom as we speak."

"Wait," Skywarp croaked hoarsely. "I want you…to blow that hunk of scrapmetal… into the next astrocycle before we leave. That son of a glitch…tried to steal my navigational data; I don't wanna take any chances." The black and purple Seeker pointed a shaking finger towards the computer console.

Thundercracker nodded his helm once. "Very well," he said softly. He watched with concerned optics as Skywarp slowly laid his head back and slipped back into stasis. Time was growing short; at least while he was in stasis, Skywarp felt no pain.

Cradling his wingmate in his arms, Thundercracker gently lifted Skywarp against his cockpit and began to walk out of the room. Once he had walked a good 100 feet away, he leaned Skywarp against one of the stone walls of the corridor and walked back to the laboratory. Several seconds later, a massive explosion rocked the hallway. Once again smoke and flame leaped hungrily from the wrecked opening of the laboratory. Angry, orange and red flames licked hungrily at the tapestries hanging near the doorway. The insatiable tendrils eagerly burned the rich fabric, leaving nothing but ash to tell the testament of its existence. Then, through the thick billows of smoke, fire and ash a dark and menacing figure stepped forth from the ruins of Doom's lab. Angry red optics blazed from the dark depths as the winged shadow walked into the corridor. Without a second glance, Thundercracker scooped up his injured comrade and began to make his way out of the castle.

* * *

Starscream felt the heat's kiss on his armor plating; that last blast came a little too close for comfort.

"You can't hide forever, Decepticon! I _will _prevail!" Doom proclaimed through the smoke and flames.

'_You have about as much chance of that happening as Megatron winning the human's Nobel Peace Prize!'_ Starscream pressed his back against the pile of scrap that composed his cover. So far, his plan was working perfectly. Now if he could just keep this tin-plated carbon monkey talking…

"Even if you defeat me, Doom, you will still have to contend with Megatron. How do you propose to do that?" he called over the acrid black cloud. Once he posed his question, Starscream swiftly and silently moved position, making his way counterclockwise around the outer edge of the massive room.

"Why should I worry about your megalomanic leader? You, the self-proclaimed _true_ leader of your faction cannot even phase my creations, let alone destroy them! Megatron nor even the Autobot Optimus Prime will be a consequence!" Dr. Doom slowly walked through the piles of deadened drones searching for his prey. He was being an elusive creature, this one. Doom assumed the rumors of the Decepticon Second were true: He really was a coward, preferring to flee and cower, rather than fight and risk injury. His termination would be well-deserved. "Once I destroy you and your two presumptuous, misguided subordinates, rebuilding my army will take little time and conquering the world even less! I must remember to thank Skywarp before I terminate him. Without his teleportation generator to study and his priceless navigational data to peruse, my endeavor would take much longer than needed."

Doom stepped nimbly to the side behind a lifeless drone as a bright, fervid pink ray scorched the spot he just vacated. He laughed to himself. It was so amusing playing "hide-and-seek" with this supposed terror of the sky. He would toy with this pathetic excuse for a Decepticon just a little longer, before seeking out the other one and giving him a quick termination as well. Perhaps the blue one would put up more of a fight, but Doom was doubtful. It was quite ironic actually. The purple one, Skywarp, whom according to his research was the least intelligent of the three, had given him the most trouble, albeit with assistance. He was very disappointed with Starscream. He had hoped the former scientist would have given him more of a challenge, both intellectually and strategically. Ah, it appeared even sentient, alien life could not compare with his brilliance!

Meanwhile Starscream was vividly cursing to himself, using words and phrases he normally reserved for his Superior's audio receptors. Suddenly, his com link buzzed to life and his blue wingmate's deep, rumbling voice filtered through the connection.

"_I got Skywarp and I'm heading out now. Do you need any backup?"_

"_No. Stay clear of the castle. I'm about to give Dr. Doom a proper Decepticon farewell. Just try and keep Warp as stable as possible and I will be there soon."_

"_Affirmative. I'll be waiting, but don't take much longer; he's fading fast."_

The connection went dead as Thundercracker broke contact, leaving Starscream to deal with Doom. _'Time to end this pathetic game once and for all,' _Starscream growled to himself. _'Now that Skywarp is safely out of this maniac's squishy hands, I'll show him exactly why every single, wretched, organic on this despicable planet cowers within my shadow!_

Doom was in position or close to it anyway; time to enact Part II of his plan. Starscream stood up from his crouched position, arms spread high above his helm. "I surrender! I surrender to you, human! I cannot continue to compete against your power, for I am running low on energy. Please spare me!"

A moment passed; the thick, oily black smoke curled lazily to the high-vaulted ceiling and proceeded to shroud its ornate surface from view. There was a whisk of movement and the distinctive _snap_ of a cape and then finally he appeared. Doom took a couple of purposeful strides out from the dark, gathering of smoke. Even after all this, his form looked impossibly immaculate. His adamantium suit gleamed in the light of the flames, casting back reflections to dance on the metal corpses around him. He may not have been able to see Doom's face, but Starscream could see the smile in his piercing green eyes. A sickening, triumphant smile that was not unlike Megatron's when victory seemed within reach.

"And why should Doom spare you? I have given you your chance to join me and yet you shunned Doom."

"Forgive me, please! I have seen my errors; please spare me!" Starscream groveled.

"Bow before me!" Doom commanded.

Starscream looked at Doom, subjugation showing plainly in his optics, but there was something else too. Something gleaming in the corner of those ruby lenses that only Starscream himself could show plain as day, but without detection. Doom continued to watch with a haughty stance, head raised, eyes hooded with expectation. The defeated Seeker began to bow in exaggeration, keeping his arms wide of his body. He lowered one knee to the floor and kept his optics focused on the stone flagging…until the last minute.

"As you command…my liege," the Decepticon snarled in a honeyed tone. With a burst of speed that only a Seeker could execute, Starscream snapped his arms forward and fired his laser cannons. However, the good Doctor was not his target this time, unlike all the previous attempts before. The fiery pink beams flew true, striking the overhanging balcony just above Dr. Doom's position. Huge chunks of marble, granite and mortar rained down upon the human. Doom tried to dodge the rain of death coming down upon him, but retaliation took the forefront of his mind. At the last moment he fired a blast in Starscream's direction, his intent to take the slippery Decepticon with him.

Starscream saw the discharge coming in his direction and leaped to the side, but not quickly enough. The electric blast caught him in the right shoulder, spinning the Seeker around and down onto his knees. He snarled in pain as the electricity melted his circuits and sensors; it also worked its way up into his sensitive wing. He felt it going numb as one by one the sensor nodes were overloaded and blown. He ground his denta together and fought against the pain, risking a hasty glance in his human rival's direction. A knowing sneer began to appear on his faceplates between grimaces of pain.

Doom's forcefield had been able to deflect some of the smaller pieces, but two large slabs of stone had collapsed from the wall and struck the field one after another, overloading its power core, forcing it to offline. Doom was now pinned beneath the mass of debris. He snarled and roared in fury, writhing beneath his prison like a worm pierced on a hook. The only thing keeping Doom from being crushed underneath the tons of stone and mortar was his adamantium suit. His last ditch attempt to kill Starscream had failed.

"I will kill you for this Decepticon! You cannot defeat Doom! You _will not_ defeat Doom!" The metal-clad human raged. He was lying prone on his stomach, one large slab lying across his back and legs. The other chunk of stone was lying across the first. Doom was pinned securely to the floor unable to raise his hands, or do much more other than to writhe and twist.

Starscream rose slowly, favoring his scorched, right shoulder. The sneer began to widen as he approached the pinned human, triumph shining in his burning, blood red depths. His thrustered feet stopped inches from Doom's metallic nose, so close Doom could smell the ionized particles leftover from Starscream's exhaust.

"_I can_ and _I have_ defeated you! I should grind you beneath my heel now," he paused, a thoughtful look crossing his faceplates, "but that would be a quick and merciful death undeserving for the likes of you, not to mention I have no desire to soil my thrusters! So, I think I'll just leave you as you are and allow your pathetically weak body to devour itself from the inside out. But just to make sure you'll no longer trouble us, Doctor, I'm going to leave you _this._"

Starscream opened a small compartment and produced a homemade explosive device, more than likely rigged from one of his cluster bombs for a remote detonation. He pressed a small trigger on the bomb's side and tossed it nonchalantly on the debris pile. "Enjoy the rest of your life, _Dr. Doom!"_ Starscream cackled manically as he ignited his engines and shot towards the ceiling. Doom's bellow of fury was quickly drowned out by the roar of Starscream's thrusters. He could care less if his exhaust flames baked the human within his metal shell; he would die soon anyway. Firing his cannons, Starscream ripped a hole through the castle's ceiling and into the open air's embrace. The cool currents soothed his tingling wing and scorched shoulder; it felt invigorating to be free from the castle's suffocating walls of stone.

The red and silver Seeker shot high into the air, scanning for his wingmates. A bright, reflective flash and a ping of coordinates caught his attention. The Second in Command turned around and rocketed towards the city's main gate, strafing a few of the houses as he went. He landed gracefully in front of Thundercracker, a satisfied smirk donning his smug face.

"It is finished," Starscream said simply.

"Good. Let's get the Pit out of here," Thundercracker grumbled. "You ready, Warp?"

"Wait. Where's Stinger?" the black and purple Seeker asked faintly.

"I thought he was with you," Thundercracker said, looking at Starscream.

"Why would _he _be with me? I assumed he was with you," Starscream shot back.

"Oh, slag." The two Seekers stared at one another expectantly, until Skywarp's hoarse voice ended the stand-off.

"Well, what are…you waiting for? Go get him!" he interjected, trying to push himself up into a sitting position.

"The bomb has been set. There's nothing I can do. Besides, he fulfilled his purpose and we no longer need him," Starscream said dismissively, preparing to lift off.

"You listen to me, _Commander_," Skywarp snarled aggressively.

Starscream's optics widened in surprise and he froze in mid-stride; Skywarp had never spoken to him like that! He turned to look at his black trinemate and had to suppress a cringe due to the threatening, almost murderous glare Skywarp was giving him. Starscream had never seen his wingmate so incensed.

"You _will_ go get _my_ wingmate or so help me…I will make your life a living _Pit_ from here on out! If it wasn't for that human, I would have been that insect's lab experiment long before you two even thought to come look for me! Now, one of you will go get him, or you better terminate me now, for as Primus as my witness, I _will _make the _Pit _look like a vacation spot compared to what I'll do to your lives!"

It wasn't so much the words that Skywarp spoke as it was the tone of voice he used. Sure the words hit a chord deep in Starscream's spark, but _that tone of voice!_ In all the million of stellar cycles, Starscream had worked with Skywarp, he had never heard such a threatening, ominous tone from his trinemate. It was a little unnerving to know that the care-free jokester of the Nemesis could be so…threatening.

A short silence ensued. As the seconds ticked by, Skywarp's glare intensified. He meant every word. Finally, Starscream caved in. "_Oh, all right! All right! I'll go back and get your pet!_ But if I don't make it, so help me Primus, I will come back from the Pit and haunt you for the rest of your life!"

Skywarp merely crossed his arms (with effort) and gave his Commander a pointed stare. Thundercracker merely shrugged his shoulders and diverted his optics. This quarrel was between Skywarp and Screamer, although he silently agreed with Skywarp on this one. For a human, Stinger had risked a lot to help them get Skywarp back. To willingly help the enemy like he did—that counted for something in Thundercracker's books.

With an angry roar from his thrusters, Starscream ignited his engines and shot back towards the castle. He was silently fuming for having to conduct this suicide rescue mission. It was just one squishy after all. He knew the risks when he got involved with Decepticons, so why did Skywarp care so much? What _did_ his wingmate and that sorry piece of flesh go through prior to him and Thundercracker searching for them?

He hovered over the castle and pulled the communication wafer from his subspace pocket. If he remembered the bomb's settings correctly, he had only five minutes to find the human and get out. The signal was weak, but still present and stationary. For all he knew, the human could be dead. It seemed in Doom's nature to set booby traps throughout his domain. It would not surprise the Decepticon one astrosecond if the human had been killed by such devices.

But for some reason, Starscream felt a pang of dread at such a thought. Almost unconsciously, deep down in his cold, dark spark Starscream silently hoped that the pilot was still alive. He had never come across a human that exhibited such an indomitable will to survive, to conquer and prevail over forces much stronger and larger than himself. He had never faced a human that refused to back down and even dared to insult _him_. It was…vexing to say the least. If Stinger weren't covered in pounds of flesh, Starscream would almost swear the pilot was part Decepticon inside.

The red and silver Seeker flew to the south side of the building and blew a hole into the thick, stone wall. He landed roughly and entered the gaping opening, being careful not to ding his injured wing. Growling lowly to himself, Starscream re-entered the castle's depths and began to quickly execute his search. The countdown was on.

* * *

Blackness. Deep, inky, constricting blackness. But there was something else.

_Thump._

A tiny, pinpoint of light broke through the darkness. It seemed so far away. He struggled to reach for it, to grab it, to embrace it.

_Thump._

There it is again. That sound. What was that?

_CRASH!_

He could feel everything around him shifting and moving, but it felt so far away. It felt as if he were on a large sailing vessel, gently moving with the waves on a calm, open sea. Then he heard a voice. It was distant, but very familiar…very…screechy…

"There you are!" Starscream announced in triumph. Rather than try and work his way through the labyrinth of stone corridors in Doom's castle, Starscream crashed his way through the walls where he could, trying to save time. Finally, he came upon the blowed-out remains of Doom's factory control center and in it, trapped beneath a massive pine beam, lay the missing pilot. He was not moving and a quick bioscan indicated he was still alive, barely, and severely injured. Starscream stepped further into the debris, a cloud of dust rising up from his foot.

He grabbed the beam in a massive, blue hand, the construct looking almost like a Pick-up Stick in his fingers. He threw the beam off to one side then gently scooped the human up into his servos, trying not to jostle him anymore than necessary.

"Let's get the slag out of here," he mumbled under his breath as he quickly dashed back into the darkened passageways. He would have preferred to just blow a hole through the ceiling like last time, but his scans indicated he was almost underground. Several tons of stone separated him from the open air and he did not want to risk being buried alive. Running a few quick calculations, it would be quicker to run back the way he had come.

Starscream sprinted down the corridors, his thrustered heels making hollow _thwoks_ as he ran. He clutched Stinger to his cockpit, trying not to jar the injured human and aggravate his injuries.

The bright, welcoming rays of the sun appeared at the end of one last corridor. He put on one more quick burst of speed just as a fearsome rumble rocked the stone walls around him. _The bomb!_ It had detonated!

Starscream didn't dare risk a glance behind him. He didn't need to look to know that a fierce wall of flame and heat was barreling down on him and Stinger. His warning lights were blinking madly and his proximity alarms seemed to be shrieking in his processor. Could…he…make…it?

In a scream of defiance, Starscream leaped out the opening and into the air, transforming mid-jump and stuffing Stinger into the cockpit in the process. His thrusters ignited, the flames from his exhaust ports kissing the flames from the explosion of the castle. A wave of heat engulfed the jet, the shockwave from the blast all but touching his thrusters. Starscream gave it his all, accelerating so quickly that if Stinger hadn't already been unconscious, he would have been then. With engines screaming, a loud _crack_ ripped through the air around them, a conical shape appearing in his wake only to be quickly consumed by the mushrooming cloud. The red and silver Seeker streaked out of the black cloud and into the clean, open air. Flying almost three times as fast as the speed of sound, Starscream had successful outrun the deadly shockwave. Any normal jet would have already disintegrated in the blast radius, but this jet was far from normal.

Starscream could still feel the heat from the blast bubbling his enamel, but he ignored it. They were safe. They had made it. It had been by the paint on his plating, but they made it! Stinger was alive and safe in his cockpit and Warp and TC were waiting on him by the city wall. He blasted away from the growing mushroom cloud of smoke and stone dust, pleased with the devastation he had wrought and the race he had won. Doom was now no longer a threat to him or any of the other Decepticons.

Without waiting for a command, TC picked Skywarp up bridal-style and flew up to meet his commander. But they weren't out of the woods yet; they now had to make Lakenheath, England.


	17. Ramstein

**Well all, this is the last official chapter for "Enemy." An epilogue will follow that will tie up loose ends. Hope you guys enjoy and I hope to catch you all for the sequel.**

**Chapter 17: Ramstein**

Slowly, very slowly the black, inky darkness began to filter away. It was gradually being replaced by a soft, fuzzy golden yellow, like when the sun was setting and bathing everything in a Midas touch. The second thing he noticed was just how badly he hurt all over, most noticeably his ribs and left leg. It felt like an elephant was currently sitting on his chest, making it very difficult and painful to breathe. As for his leg, it felt similar to the time he had spilt gasoline on his pants leg and caught the material on fire, only much, much worse and the pain was internal—a deep fiery, burning pain that refused to subside. The last thing he noticed was the dull roar of continuous sound that refused to subside. It continued on and on, never decreasing in volume, never lessening in intensity. He had heard of having a roaring in your ears, but this was ridiculous! Wasn't it supposed to lessen after a while? He shook his head blearily to try and clear the muddled, jumble thoughts clogging his brain. That roar; it sounded vaguely familiar…

A sneering, obnoxious and familiar voice screeched its way into his cognitive thoughts. "About time you woke, human."

That voice…! Realization hit him like a slow-moving steamroller. The explosion, the beam, the voice—it was, of all people, er mechs, the Decepticon Air Commander himself—Starscream.

"What mm 'ell?" a mumbling of words spilt from his parched, blood-stained lips. He licked his lips, grimacing at the salty, metallic taste of blood and sweat, and tried again, "What in the hell?"

Starscream chuckled dryly. "Is that how you show appreciation on this mudball?"

Stinger groaned. "You?" he asked, a slight hint of disbelief in his voice. His grey eyes darted briefly around his surroundings. For the first time he realized he was within _Starscream's_ cockpit, of all the insane places. The Decepticon's colored glass explained the yellowish filter of light and, seeing as how they were currently flying, that explained the continuous roaring that filled his ears. Stinger quickly put two and two together. "You were the one that got me out of that rock pit?"

"Does that surprise you, human?" Starscream asked, his tone heavily overlaid with fake-tenderness and mock-humility.

"Hell yeah that surprises me! Of all the damn machines I've had to deal with lately, you weren't exactly on my list of 'heroes-to-the-rescue.' Hell, I figured you'd be happy to let me burn back there or at least rot to death."

Starscream did not reply. In fact, he remained quiet for so long that Stinger thought the mech had chosen to leave the conversation; but that was not the case. Finally, he spoke.

"I would have."

"Huh?"

Starscream huffed in annoyance at having to repeat himself. "I said 'I would have' in answer to your previous statement."

"Oh."

"_But_…Had Skywarp not '_requested'_ I go back and retrieve you, I might never have realized something."

"Oh, and what's that?" Stinger asked genuinely curious. He felt the jet shudder briefly and heard the whine of the engines kick up in pitch, as if the jet had sucked in a large portion of air and forced it unwillingly through the turbines.

"I might…never have realized just how much…I respect your…fortitude, Lieutenant Kesinger. You truly have a warrior's programming beneath your ridiculously fallible flesh."

It was Stinger's turn to be silent. It was official. Of all the crazy, dangerous, idiotic, and downright insane things that had taken place over the last week or so this took the cake. Had someone come up to him and told him that one day he would receive a compliment from the Decepticon Second-in-Command and Commander of their Aerial Forces, Stinger would have laughed them out of his sight. But now that it had happened, he felt strangely solemn and…deeply honored. In these days and times, it was a rare moment indeed when a human earned the respect of an enemy, especially one as powerful and merciless as a Decepticon. Finally, he found his voice.

"Thank you, Commander Starscream…sir." And he meant every word.

On the outside Starscream maintained an air of silence and stoicism, but deep down in his spark he felt something…something different. They flew in silence for several more minutes. His sensors told him that the pilot had drifted back into sleep during that short period of time. He let it be. Primus knew that this human deserved a little bit of recharge after all that had happened and all he had risked.

* * *

'_**Thundercracker to Starscream.'**_

'_**Go ahead, Thundercracker.'**_

'_**My energy levels are depleting rapidly. I'm not going to be able to make England carrying Warp in this fashion, that and we're very vulnerable to attack. I think we're going to have to modify this strategy just a bit. Got any ideas?"**_

'_**Wait one click.'**_ Starscream pulled up a digital memory file of all the United States Air Bases across Europe. Unfortunately, Lakenheath Royal Air Base was the only joint base that currently stationed F-15 Eagles, therefore making it the only base suitable for repairs. The next closest base on their route appeared to be Ramstein Air Base within Germany. Normally, he would prefer to fly in guns blazing and commandeer any supplies that he and his wingmates would need. But as it stood, Skywarp was incapacitated, Thundercracker could not fight without putting himself in harm's way, not to mention he was low on energy, and even he himself was limited what with transporting an injured human in his cockpit. For once the fleshlings would have the advantage and they couldn't waste precious time fighting. Warp's life was literally draining away with each passing astrosecond; Stinger wasn't much better off.

Starscream directed his sensors internally. "Fleshling, wake up." The human merely grunted and adjusted his position. The red and silver jet huffed, annoyed. "I said, 'wake up, human!'"

Stinger jerked awake becoming instantaneously aware of all his injuries once more. "What!? What!?" he grumbled irritably. "Are we there yet?"

"Hardly," Starscream scoffed. "We are unable to make England in our current condition. Thundercracker is low on energy and unable to complete the trip in the time that we need."

"Where are we now?" Stinger asked groggily; he rubbed his temples as his brain struggled to compute the barrage of information Starscream was throwing at him.

"Southern Germany."

"Well, we could try for Ramstein. If Thundercracker over refuels, could he make England then?"

"Negative. According to my calculations, if we proceed at our current rate and condition and take only 5.6 breems to refuel, not including the time taken to negotiate our landing, we would arrive in England approximately 15.4 cycles later. Skywarp only has 10.8 cycles to continue functioning, to my best estimate."

Stinger remained silent briefly before he swore. "Damn it!" He rested his head against the back of the seat. _Think ol' boy, think! How can we make England in time? _Suddenly an idea came to him. "Say Starscream?"

"Yes?"

"You say Thundercracker can't make England traveling as he is now, right?"

"Correct."

"What if we were able to get someone else to do the carrying for us?"

"What do you have in mind, human?" the Decepticon asked warily.

"Ever seen a C-17, Screechy?"

For once Starscream ignored the nickname and began to immediately research the plane in question. It appeared to be a rather large four engine transport vessel. Starscream began to calculate several different equations at once—the gross weight of the plane, Skywarp's mass, the maximum capacity of the plane, its rate of speed fully loaded…and a host of other factors. Everything seemed to check out…

"But how are we going to attain such a craft? It is suitable for our purposes but you are in no condition to fly. And I highly doubt your government would be willing to aid us," he replied sardonically.

"Look, if I can get permission for us to land at Ramstein, we could at least repair Skywarp enough to buy us a little bit more time until a transport can arrive. It may not be an F-15 base, but it should have enough basic supplies to keep him from getting any worse. Do you not agree? Plus, from Ramstein they can radio ahead to Lakenheath and have something ready for us when we get there."

"You forget with whom you're dealing," Starscream growled. "I might could land without immediate detection, but as soon as they see Thundercracker they will open fire."

"Let me do the negotiating," Stinger urged. "After all, I've been missing for two weeks and you two bringing me back has to count for something."

Starscream remained quiet as he pondered the pilot's words. He didn't like this idea one bit; he especially didn't like being at a disadvantage when humans were concerned, but Warp's spark was at stake and it might be the only chance they had. "Very well," he conceded, "but at the first sign of trouble I will level their pathetic base!"

"That kind of defeats the purpose of landing and refueling, you know," Stinger replied, raising one eyebrow.

"I would rather deactivate than become a prisoner to fleshling whims!" Starscream retorted. "Accepting their assistance, if they even offer, is bad enough! Let me contact Thundercracker and relay our plans."

Stinger waited patiently as Starscream repeated their discussion to the blue Seeker. He occupied himself by trying to organize his words and thoughts for when they approached the base. Diplomacy was key here. Much too soon for comfort, Starscream's raspy voice filtered back over the radio.

"All right, Stinger. We are within 50 miles of Ramstein Air Base. Do what you need to do. My radio transceiver is indicated by the blinking blue light."

Stinger gulped nervously as he eyed the blinking, blue button. Here goes nothing. '_Silver Falcon 07 to Ramstein Tower, over."_

A slight staticky pause and then, '_Ramstein Tower, we read you loud and clear Silver Falcon, over.'_

Stinger took a deep breath; this was it; it was now or never. '_Tower, Silver Falcon 07 requesting to make an emergency landing. I am critically wounded and require immediate medical attention. There is also one other casualty. Requesting permission to land for myself and one other bird, over,' _

There was a very long pause as Stinger and Starscream waited for a response. Finally Stinger growled out in frustration, "Damn it! What's taking so long!?"

"Currently, they are performing a check on your call sign to determine just who you really are. Also, their pathetic radar is trying to get a reading to determine just what kind of craft you are and whom you are flying with. They're not meeting with much success," Starscream finished smugly.

Stinger sighed irritably and depressed the button. '_Tower, did you copy last transmission, over?'_

'_Uh, 07, we received reports you were KIA over Latveria. Please confirm ID.'_

'_This is Silver Falcon 07, Mission ID 8-9-0-sierra-kilo-alfa-7-4-2. Flight 07 of 1-4. Mission Code Name: Saving Angels, over.'_ Another long pause.

'_ID Confirmed, 07. Damn son! Where in the hell have you been? Word had it you bought the farm!'_

'_Long story, Tower. But it's imperative that we land immediately, status, over? _

'_How many are landing, 07? We also need tail number ID, over.'_

Oh, boy. This was where the shit would hit the fan. '_Two landing, Tower.' _Pause. '_Tail ID: sierra-sierra 01 and tango-charlie 02. Casualty ID is sierra-whiskey 03, over.'_

Another long pause before the radio suddenly burst into a frenzy of activity. '_That's a negative, 07! NEGATIVE! You are to turn back now and proceed in the opposite direction immediately or we will fire on you! I repeat—hostile force has been authorized, over!'_

"Just as I thought," Starscream said.

"Yeah, well, I'm not giving up that easily!" Stinger growled. "If they don't consent, maybe a little persuasion on your part might be necessary."

"It will be my pleasure, Lieutenant." Stinger swore he could hear the smirk in the jet's voice.

Oh, well. To hell with diplomacy!

'_Now you listen here, Tower! I've been through hell and back again these past two weeks and I'm not about to give it up now! Star—er, sierra-sierra 01, tango-charlie 02, and sierra-whiskey 03 risked their lives to save me and the rest of you bastards from a threat none of you knew existed and wouldn't have known until it was too late. Now, the least you bastards can do is give us permission to land and exemplify our evidence. For once these guys are asking __**nicely**__ to use our facilities and not blowing them all to hell! They are asking to land under a flag of truce, which is a hell of lot more than they ever offered the Autobots! Now what's it going to be boys? Are we going to do this the nice way or the ugly way?_

'_Are you threatening hostile action, 07!?'_

'_He's not, but I am you pathetic meatsacks!' _Starscream interjected angrily. '_My patience is wearing exceedingly thin! As your lieutenant has stated, we will land peacefully if given the opportunity and as Aerial Commander you have my word we will not fire unless fired upon first; however, if you refuse us, I will ensure none of you live to see the next solar cycle! Is that understood?'_

"Are you always that subtle, Starscream?" Stinger asked acerbically.

"No. Usually by this time that pathetic base would be a smoldering rubble pile by now."

"Ah. I see."

'_Uh, 07 and sierra-sierra 01, In light of the circumstances, permission to land will be granted on the condition of an armed escort. Also, you are not, I repeat, are not, to engage in any hostile actions upon landing. Any action conceived as such will result in retaliation, over.'_

"Well, it's better than nothin'. What do you say?"

"Unfortunately, it is our only choice. But my feelings are reciprocal; any action _I _construe as hostile will result in their immediate annihilation!"

"All righty, then," Stinger whispered. '_Falcon 07 to Tower, your terms are acceptable. Awaiting intercept and escort, over.'_

'_ETA to your position: 2 minutes Silver Falcon 07. We'll see you on the deck, over and out.'_

The next two minutes were the longest in Starscream's and Stinger's lives, but just as the control tower predicted, at the end of the two minutes two sets of five dots appeared in the distance. Before long, Starscream and Thundercracker were surrounded by two flights of F-35 JSF Lightnings. The motley crew of aircraft continued on to the base in radio silence. As they approached the air field, Stinger could see dozens of various dots speckling the landscape—heavy artillery no doubt. Stinger really couldn't blame them; after spending several years, millions of dollars and hundreds of lives combating the Decepticons, a semi-peaceful meeting was a little hard to swallow.

Their escort remained aloft as Starscream lowered his landing gear to make ready for touch-down. On his right, Stinger glanced out the cockpit glass to see Thundercracker shift Skywarp to a position over his shoulder, making it slightly easier to land in his root mode. They descended rapidly and although Starscream normally didn't make runway landings, it was as close to textbook as you could get. His wheels hit the tarmac with a short screech, a small puff of whitish-grey smoke accompanying their touchdown. He taxied smoothly down the runway, rocket launchers and even a few A1 Abrams tanks following them meter for meter.

Just off the tarmac, Thundercracker touched down smoothly in the grassy field beside the runway, leaving large, muddy furrows where his thrusters bit into the soft sod. With a tired groan, he laid Skywarp in the grass and then sunk wearily down next to him, his energy almost spent.

"I don't like being exposed like this," Starscream growled to Stinger, just low enough for the pilot to hear.

"Well, take comfort in the fact that if you go down, I'm goin' down with ya," Stinger quipped.

"I feel better already," the Seeker groused. He focused his attention on all the soldiers encircling his frame. "The lieutenant requires assistance exiting my cockpit. He cannot do so under his own power."

Some of the soldiers lowered their weapons marginally and looked around expectantly. A few seconds later and a few of them parted allowing a very distinguished figure to make his way to the front—the base commander.

He stopped on the front line and leveled a very cold stare at the vibrant, battle-charred red, silver and blue Eagle before him. His icy blue eyes narrowed with suspicion and maybe even hate as the stare-down continued for what seemed like ages. Finally the colonel spoke, but his voice was as frosty as his eyes.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing here, Decepticon?"

"My, my colonel. Is this how you receive all your guests?" Starscream suavely replied, every word saturated with sarcasm.

"Don't patronize me you walking trashcan! I asked you a question and I expect an answer or I'll blow your shiny metallic ass all the way into next Sunday!"

"AND WHO ARE YOU TO BE GIVING _ME_ ORDERS, YOU MINUSCULE CARBON-BASED PEST!? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WITH WHOM YOU ARE SPEAKING!?" Starscream shrieked in rage. Several of the surrounding soldiers dropped their weapons to cover their ears; never had they heard such a shrill, discordant voice in all their years of service. Had not some infinitesimal, atomic part of Starscream's processor reminded him that Stinger was still within his cockpit, he would have transformed on the spot and crushed the insolent insect. But as it stood, the jet visibly vibrated in pure fury. Even Thundercracker sensed the immediate increase in tension and sat a little straighter, optics bright with readiness.

"Does it look like I give a damn?" the colonel replied, his voice still as cold and icy as an Antarctic glacier. He raised his hand to his soldiers, hundreds of clicks filled the air as safeties were released and assault systems were armed.

Stinger just knew that if Starscream shook any harder he would soon become a human martini, so without further ado, the rambunctious pilot knocked on the glass insistently trying to get Starscream to open up.

"And just how to you plan to get down from here?" Starscream hissed through the radio.

"It's called a controlled fall; I'm sure you've used a similar technique a time or two when you've faced the Autobots. Besides, we just exited a war zone and I have no intention of allowing you two to start another, now open up!"

Amazingly instead of replying with his usual caustic retort, Starscream merely growled to himself, the sound coming across as snarling static through the radio. The hatch slid open with a hiss and Stinger painfully pulled himself up to sit on the lip of the cockpit. Every movement was equivalent to having a knife thrust between his ribs and a fierce, fiery inferno within his leg. Stinger grimaced with pain as he struggled to pull his legs out of the cockpit.

"Colonel please excuse my friend here; we've had it a bit rough since leaving Latveria, so we're a little on edge," Stinger ground out between gasps.

The colonel said nothing; only motioned with his hand towards the trembling jet. A group of four soldiers approached the fighter with a ladder; one scaled the instrument while the other three focused their rifles on the lieutenant. With the help of the one soldier, Stinger hobbled down the ladder. When his feet touched the tarmac, Stinger felt his arms being pulled behind his back and cold, steel cuffs clasping around his wrists. He really wasn't surprised seeing as whom he was dealing with. Colonel George Garrison was quite frankly, an officer on a power trip. He was a man that craved attention and wanted the world to know of his accomplishments. Since the Autobots and the Decepticons arrival on Earth, Colonel Garrison had thrown himself into a full-steam effort to rid his country, as well as the rest of the world, of the evil, alien invaders. He really didn't care that much for the Autobots, but since he had received orders to not harass them, he focused his unyielding will and energy on eradicating the Decepticons. Having three from the top chain of command of the Decepticon army within his custody was like having Christmas in July for the old war bird.

Stinger had met the colonel once before back in the states. Before the Latveria fiasco, he had held a lot of respect for the man. Now he felt nothing but disgust. The pilot really hadn't expected the colonel to be base commander of Ramstein. In fact prior to his sortie over Symkeria, he wasn't; looks like a lot had happened in his absence.

"Lieutenant Don Kesinger, you are under arrest for fraternizing with the enemy. Charges of treason against your country will be brought against you," the colonel said as Stinger was shoved before the commander. "What do you have to say for yourself, lieutenant?"

The man wasn't even willing to listen to their story and nothing short of a miracle was going to convince him otherwise. "Would it make any difference if I said we have evidence against Latveria for plotting world domination?"

The colonel snorted loudly. "Hardly, Anything these tincans…"

Suddenly a young sergeant appeared from the midst of the crowd, waving his arms wildly while shouting, "Commander! We're under attack! Latverian war planes have crossed the border and are heading for us! Orders, sir!?"

Hmm. Miracles really do happen! "Believe us now?" Stinger sniped.

"_You_ orchestrated this attack! It's just like you Decepticons to ally yourselves with the likes of the Latverians," the colonel accused, pointing a finger at the jet and Stinger.

"Oh, would you just shut up!" Starscream shrieked, transforming as he spoke. All the soldiers tensed, several even took a few steps backward as the SIC rose to his full and imposing height. His wings bristled with anger and his optics were blazing with Hell's fury. Before anyone could react, he reached down and swept the colonel up in one blue, iron-tight grip.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot! You'll hit Colonel Garrison!" A voice rang out as brief chaos ensued. If Starscream was the least bit concerned that every piece of heavy artillery was pointed at his spark chamber, his dark grey face never betrayed it. He brought the wriggling colonel up to his face and glowered hotly at the human. It was taking every tiny shred of what remained of his patience to not crush the insect between his fingers; Primus only knew this one deserved such a fate.

"We tried this the _peaceful_ way," Starscream spat, "and it has gotten us less than admirable results; now, we are going to do this _my _way." The Decepticon turned and faced Thundercracker and the ailing Skywarp. "Do you see _that_?" Starscream shouted while pointing at his wingmates. "Does _that_ look like we formed an _alliance_ with those abominable protoplasmic worms!? _Does_ _it_!? If you still continue to think so, then you are more stupid than I originally gave you credit for!" Starscream fumed, shaking the terrified colonel trapped in his ever-tightening grip. Starscream knew very well that if the bug could have enough oxygen to form words he would shout out orders to fire on them; it was his intention to make sure that didn't happen. Starscream continued his rant. "Latveria was planning to destroy your world and if not for the interference given by your lieutenant and _my _wingmate, my kind would be nothing but useless scrap and you, pathetic vermin, would be slaves to a madman's whims. Now then, I can help you get rid of these Latverian pests once and for all, but in exchange for our services we want transport to Lakenheath, England and repairs administered to my trinemates. You will also release Lieutenant Kesinger and provide him with medical treatment as well. Am I understood?"

The colonel's face was quickly turning blue and then purple. Finally he gave the slightest indication of a nod. Starscream smirked triumphantly and released his hold just a fraction. Colonel Garrison inhaled gratefully.

"You…you say…you have evidence?" Garrison rasped hoarsely.

Starscream said nothing; he merely reached up behind his helm and withdrew a tiny microchip. "This will provide you with all the evidence you seek. However, for first-hand experience, Lieutenant Kesinger's testimony and Skywarp's data chip will provide you with more conclusive evidence."

The roar of jet engines could be heard in the distance. Klaxons were beginning to blare their shrill warning and men were shifting about restlessly, uncertain of what was going to happen next.

"Let's…work this out after the battle," the colonel finally relented. Having a near-death experience with a lethal, sentient machine tended to give a man a new outlook on life. He glanced nervously at the Con who still held him firmly and back to the ground.

"Very well," Starscream growled, "but if you even think of double-crossing me, you will be the first to die this day!" he snarled, casting the colonel back onto the ground as if he were a filthy, grease-covered rag. The man collided with several other officers and assistants, all of them collapsing into a heap.

At this time the roar of hostile engines filled the air as four different flights of fighters screamed over the base raining hellfire upon the men below. Starscream glanced at Thundercracker who gave his commander a brief nod. With living fire licking from within his thrusters, Starscream ran several hundred feet before leaping into the air and transforming mid-jump. Blue flames leaped from his engines as the Air Commander blasted off into sky, Thundercracker on his right wingtip.

The colonel picked himself up off the ground and immediately began barking orders. "Pilots! To your planes! I want every man able to fly in the air in less than five minutes! You two! Take Lieutenant Kesinger to the hospital! Sergeant Kelso! Get a crew together and move that Decepticon to Hangar 5 Bravo now! Don't damage him anymore than he already is!"

The base came alive as men scrambled to their positions and made ready to fight this unforeseen enemy. Already several buildings were on fire; explosions ripped through the air and smoke began to darken the crystal blue sky. The deafening roar of jet engines firing up added to the din and cacophony as the US planes began to taxi to the runways. Anti-aircraft missiles were targeted and aimed at the returning enemy jets that were swooping back around for another strike.

High overhead Starscream and Thundercracker were circling over the base providing cover for the US jets that had yet to get up into the air. Down on the deck, Stinger was hurriedly making his way to the hospital, an armed guard of four men helping him on his way. In his condition, he was in no shape to fight let alone fly, but he would allow the doctors to fix him just enough so he could get back to Skywarp's hangar and oversee the repairs, if they all made it through that is.

Like a swarm of angry hornets, the enemy fighters were bearing down on the base once again. These jets were unlike any anyone had ever seen. Unlike most modern fighters of today, these jets had forward-swept wings and tiny winglets located just below the cockpit. They appeared to be a variant of the Su-47 Berkut, emphasis on _variant_. These jets were highly maneuverable and armed to the teeth with traditional weapons as well as laser cannons. Their matte black paint shone faintly in the sunlight; thirty-two ominous shadows ready to deal death in the name of vengeance for their leader's demise.

Starscream and Thundercracker rocketed into the enemy formation, their own laser cannons firing violet death at the enemy planes. The formations split as the Seekers disrupted their flight lines. The sky quickly became a rainbow collage of laser beams, green and violet streaks tearing across an azure sky. Starscream dove and rolled firing on one jet after another, never having less than three on his tailfins at any one moment in time. Three minutes into the battle and already the red, silver and blue Eagle had successfully shot down seven enemy aircraft. The blue sky over Ramstein soon became a blazing red, orange, and black patchwork quilt of destruction and death.

'_**Thundercracker to Starscream.'**_

'_**What TC!?'**_

'_**I'm dangerously low on energy. I have only 2.5 breems of energy left to fight effectively before emergency energy conservation procedures initiate.'**_

'_**That is more than enough time to wipe the chaff from the sky!'**_

Finally, a squadron of F-35 Lightnings joined the fray and although their weaponry was hard pressed to compete with the Latverians, the US pilots were able match their planes move for move in their fifth generation fighters. The US pilots also had one major advantage that the Latverians didn't: Decepticon Seeker air support. Starscream dipped down and shot two more Berkuts from the sky, temporarily relieving one of Lightning pilots. Thundercracker streaked across the sky, flying head on towards a group of five fighters, enemy lasers zipped by his wingtips and one or two even scorched his blue enamel, but still the blue Eagle thundered ahead. At the last possible moment he nosed up just enough to clear the canopies of the enemy pilots. A glass-shattering sonic boom obliterated the canopies on the Berkuts; the pilots' screams of agony were quickly drowned out by the shriek of out-of-control engines as the planes spiraled earthward only to become useless piles of burning scrap on the land below.

As quickly as it began the fight ended. The remaining ten Berkuts quickly turned tail and fled the area, afterburners burning brightly through the smoke-filled sky. Their plan to catch the Decepticons off-guard and helpless had failed miserably and revenge for Dr. Doom's death would not be fulfilled today. They were hotly pursued by the squadron of F-35s.

Starscream swept in low, transforming into his root mode and landing in a crouched position, a charred blue hand outstretched for balance. His vermillion gaze watched as Thundercracker landed less than gracefully a few yards in front of him. His blue wingmate transformed but could not stick the landing. He toppled over and slid harshly on his shoulder, the large intake digging deeply into the earth and leaving a nasty trough in its wake. When he stopped sliding, Thundercracker feebly tried to rise, but collapsed into exhaustion, optics flickering with feeble light. Starscream hurried over to him and placed Thundercracker's arm across his shoulders, helping his trinemate to his thrusters. Slowly they began making their way to the hangar where Skywarp was currently lying in stasis.

As they entered the hangar, Starscream propped Thundercracker against the trailer that Warp was lying on; he himself was getting low on energy after that fight, but there were still some minor details that needed tending.

Suddenly, he heard a loud noise directly behind him, like someone clearing their throat. He turned his head slightly and saw the figure of Colonel George Garrison standing by the corner of the trailer. Judging by the looks of things, it appeared as if the colonel had been right in the thick of battle. His face was covered in soot and dirt and his once, crisp uniform had several tears and burn holes throughout his body. On the right arm, there was even a bloodied bandage, probably a flesh wound.

"What fleshling?" Starscream sneered, turning to glare down upon the human.

The colonel shifted uncomfortably under the harsh stare of the Air Commander, his words temporarily fleeing him. Finally he found his voice.

"About our agreement, Decepticon…" Starscream quirked an optic ridge.

"We will provide you with the services you need," the colonel finally ground out.

"And…?" Starscream urged.

"And I will arrange transport to Lakenheath for your…comrade," he lowered his voice just a little. "You have no idea how much paperwork I'm going to have to do…Lieutenant Kesinger and your partner here better have some damn good evidence that's all I have to say." With that the colonel turned on his heel and walked out of the hangar, leaving the technicians to tend to the wounded Decepticons. Starscream merely narrowed his optics and gave the departing colonel a brief nod.


	18. Final Farewells

**Chapter 18: Epilogue**

Stinger hobbled out of the hospital on two crutches, his left leg in a cast clear up to his waist. The doctors had said his femur had been shattered, broken in four different places by the weight of the wooden beam. His ribs would heal soon enough and at this point the pain had become more of nuisance than any severe discomfort. His biggest worry was whether or not he'd be able to fly again; he knew his leg would heal, but whether the military would ever allow him back in a cockpit was still up for debate.

For once England was pleasantly sunny and the weather was fair; perfect for the return trip home to the States. After all, he had been in England for almost two weeks now and he was just itching to get back onto his home turf. Colonel Garrison had him formally debriefed while still in Germany and Starscream's and Skywarp's data chips had provided concrete evidence against Dr. Doom and his diabolical plans for the world. It was hardly believable, especially where the US military stood, but without a doubt the Decepticon Seekers had stepped up and saved humanity from a hidden threat that no one saw coming, even if it was in their own interest.

Under the terms of the subsequent agreement, the US government agreed to keep the "Latverian Fiasco", as it became called, under the strictest security measures. Starscream and his trine would receive full repairs and transport to Lakenheath and Lieutenant Kesinger's role in the Fiasco would not go unrewarded either. Stinger was secretly promoted and was well-rewarded for his acts of bravery and courage while in the line of duty. Naturally, only the higher-ups would ever be privy to his accomplishments; anyone else would see just a normal pilot who happened to beat the odds and survived enemy capture. And just to sweeten the shaky treaty between everyone, Starscream and the trine would receive three full loads of energy to take back to Decepticon Headquarters, the story being that when the Air Commander and Thundercracker left to retrieve Skywarp, they raided a secret government installation in the process, thus giving them an adequate cover story for their absence. The US government would falsify a few media reports just to add to its believability; with any luck the Decepticon Leader would just be happy with his Air Commander's successful raid and the subject would be dropped.

Stinger and company had stayed at Ramstein for another whole day, technicians working around the clock to stabilize Skywarp's systems enough to complete the trip to England. When the black Seeker was safely out of the danger zone, they loaded him up on a C-17 Globemaster and flew straight to England, Starscream and Thundercracker flying escort. Stinger remained in the cargo hold to keep Skywarp company and to try and take the Seeker's mind off of his claustrophobia.

Their arrival in England had been less than warm, but nowhere near as harsh as in Ramstein now that all who needed to know had been apprised on the situation. Over the course of the two weeks, Skywarp's body had slowly been rebuilt with a little guidance from Starscream. But the day had finally come for the four unlikely allies to split their separate ways, the threat neutralized and everyone back to health.

Heavy footfalls drew Stinger's attention. He glanced over his shoulder and gave a wide smile. Skywarp knelt before him, fully repaired and absolutely shining under a fresh coat of new glossy, black paint. It was the first time the wily pilot had ever seen the Decepticon fully repaired with nary a mark marring his armor.

"Well, I guess this is it, old son," Stinger said, hobbling around to face the Seeker.

"I guess so," Skywarp replied, his smirk falling just a little at the thought of finally leaving this rather interesting and intriguing human. He turned his head away and watched as Thundercracker and Starscream were quietly conversing across the parade ground, Thundercracker leaning casually against one of the buildings and Starscream standing with his arms folded across his cockpit as usual. Finally, Skywarp found his vocalizer once more. "I never would have thought that one day a squishy would save my spark."

"And I never thought I'd actually be saved by the Decepticon Second in Command. Crazy world, ain't it?"

"You got that right," Skywarp agreed. A brief silence ensued.

"If I ever get in a cockpit again, I don't think I'll be able to look at you guys in quite the same light," Stinger said, breaking the awkward silence.

"You better!" Skywarp shot back. He poked a violet finger into Stinger's chest. "I ain't gonna take it easy on you like last time!"

"Last time!? Hell, you let that manic Doom character do all your dirty work for you and got yourself shot down in the process. You call that taking it easy? If you ask me, I'd call it slippin' just a little."

"Slippin' hey? You know I seem to recall owing you a chance to fly in a 'real' jet, squish, now that I have my wings back on straight."

"Yeah, I reckon you do, but as you can see I'm not really in any condition to fly right now," Stinger motioned with his crutch at his decrepit form.

"Humans and their pathetic organic weaknesses! You saw how bad off I was and now look at me!" Skywarp palmed a hand down his immaculate frame.

"Yeah, yeah rub it in, lughead," Stinger groused, as his countenance fell.

"What's rustin' your circuits?" Skywarp asked, a suspicious tone creeping up in his vocalizer.

Stinger sighed heavily. "Well, Warp, it's like this: The doctors told me I'd be lucky if I healed enough to walk without a limp and at this point they pretty much told me I'd probably be flying a desk from here on out."

"'Flying a desk?' That'd be pretty hard don't you think? Those things aren't even aerodynamically designed."

Stinger laughed half-heartedly. "No Warp. It's an expression. What I meant was they don't think I'll ever be medically fit to fly in combat again so they're going to sit me behind a desk doing paperwork for the rest of my career. Not exactly the way I wanted to finish up, you know. It'd be like your Commander Screamer over there, making you stay ground-bound for the rest of your life."

Skywarp flinched at the thought now that Stinger had clarified it. "Slag! That sounds like a fate worse than deactivation; I'd lose my processor if Screamer ever did that to me."

"You mean you actually have one of those?" Stinger sniped. Skywarp swatted playfully at Stinger, his palm landing just a few feet from the pilot.

"Very funny," Skywarp deadpanned, but his optics dimmed slightly and his faceplates grew serious. "But I'll tell ya what," he reached into one of his compartments and withdrew a tiny metal-looking chip. It was shaped into the Decepticon's shield, but there appeared to be a double-chevron of some sort in the background. It was so small that it could have fit quite nicely on a small chain necklace. Skywarp motioned for Stinger to open his hand and the Seeker dropped the item into his palm. Stinger looked at it curiously and then back up to Skywarp.

"What's this?"

"It's a homing chip, my friend," Skywarp grinned mischievously. "Anywhere you go, anywhere you are, I'll be able to find you. You get the itch to fly, just press this small button." Skywarp motioned for him to do so; Stinger complied and watched as the eyes within the shield lit to a glimmering ruby glow. At the same time, Skywarp opened a small panel on his right forearm and showed the pilot a blinking red dot on a miniature radar screen. "I may not be able to come immediately, but…I'll show up eventually," he smirked, but then grew serious once more. "But that's not all this chip is good for. What I'm giving you, no other being besides a fellow Seeker owns. As you can see it's a variant of the Decepticons' shield. This is the Seeker's…" he paused trying to find the right set of words, "uh, Coat of Arms, if you will. If you ever run into trouble, or if you ever get tangled up with other Decepticons, just show 'em this shield. Got it?"

Stinger stared at the tiny trinket and then nodded his head. "Yeah, I got it. You know, this thing would make a kick-ass tattoo," Stinger commented as he turned the piece over and over in his hand.

Skywarp shrugged. "Hey, as long as other Decepticons see that you're one of us, you shouldn't have any problems. But I probably wouldn't let anyone else know about this. As you human's say, no sense in showing all your cards at once."

"Does Screechy know of this?" Stinger asked. He didn't like the thought of Skywarp getting into trouble in his stead.

"Yeah, he knows. In fact, I wouldn't be giving this to you if all three of us weren't in agreement about it. You should feel privileged, human."

"I do. You have no idea, Skywarp. And I've got something for you." Stinger reached into his pocket and withdrew a coin. He placed it within Skywarp's massive palm, the tiny coin looking no larger than a corn kernel in his violet hand. "This is my squadron's coin. It's kind of like what you just gave me. It's not a homing beacon, but it's just a little reminder of what we went through."

"Uh, well thanks, squish," Skywarp replied warmly. He placed the coin in one of his storage compartments. "Anytime I'll look at it, I'll remember you."

"Thanks man," Stinger replied with a small grin.

"Skywarp! It's time to go!" a reedy, metallic voice called across the grounds.

"Take care of yourself, Skywarp."

"You too, Stinger. I'll drop in for a visit every now and then. Let me know if you ever score as many femmes as I have!" the purple Seeker called over his shoulder as he rejoined his wingmates.

"You bet!" Stinger hollered back. With a loud, thunderous roar the three Seekers leaped into the air as one, thrusters igniting in a flurry of multi-colored flames. As a single entity they rose into the sky, transformed in unison and jetted into the azure depths. The lieutenant watched as the three Eagles quickly became three dots and then faded from sight. They were going home and now it was his turn. As he turned to head toward the tarmac where a C-130 sat patiently waiting, he looked one last time in the direction the Seekers had disappeared. He opened his palm and studied the tiny device that Skywarp had given him. He grinned to himself. Officially, he was a Seeker now too, and the rank and privilege bestowed upon him by Skywarp and his trine outshone anything his fellow humans had given him or ever would give him. It would be his most prized possession. He looked up into the sky once more before walking to his waiting transport. He barely even noticed the solitary tear that made a mournful track down his scarred cheek.

**_~ FIN ~_**

**A/N: Well guys, thanks for everything and all your awesome reviews! But don't fret too badly; I've already began working on the sequel. So keep your optics peeled for "The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend." And go see the new movie if you haven't already!**


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